Raiding His Fridge
by JessenoSabaku
Summary: Who knew that the light of all that was peaceful in a world that was not could come from the refrigerator they ate from and took for granted every day. This was at first a one-shot, but I'm combining it with another idea now. AU. T-M for later chapters.
1. A Cold Light, a Warm Home

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! But Naruto is a great anime/manga, so you should go out and buy a few volumes of each! Buy them! Buy them NOW! Anyhow, this was just another fun little idea I had. So, without further ado, please enjoy!**

To say that Iruka was scared was the biggest understatement anyone could've ever made. His heart had threatened to explode in his chest the minute that he heard rustling in the kitchen as he descended the stairs. He'd woken up and while wrestling with his mind about his troubles at work, couldn't get back to sleep, so he figured he'd run downstairs and make himself some hot cocoa and just relax.

Usually the sound of rustling in the kitchen wouldn't have alarmed him. He'd had more than one time when his coworker and friend Kakashi would show up, snag the spare key under the front door mat, and let himself in to raid Iruka's fridge for a midnight snack. He did so loudly on purpose so that he could get Iruka to wake up and come down and talk to him. He was just that odd. But lately, a scare had been going through the town. Iruka had been watching the news and eating breakfast when the story came up.

For almost a month there had been a series of thefts. Each night a different person's house was struck. It was a very peculiar case—each time the burglar managed to break a window or get through the door without waking up the people in the house, and every time they would leave without anything of any importance. In fact, investigators had come to the conclusion that the perpetrator stayed exclusively in one room of the house—and that was the kitchen. The only things missing would be some food items and a cup or two. Police said that while it was good that the burglar wasn't stealing anyone's valuables and didn't seem to want to cause harm, that it was still an offense, and still scared many people. One of the scariest things was to wake up to find someone had been in your house and you didn't even know. They also said that while it didn't seem like there was much danger there was still a possibility that the criminal could be armed and dangerous or become spooked if cornered. They advised everyone that should the thief be found in their house, the home-owner should not confront him but call the police.

Ever since the report not only everyone at his workplace but all of Iruka's friends had been shaking in their boots. He hadn't paid it much mind until lately when a person just a block or so away got robbed. That had gotten him nervous.

So it was perfectly understandable why he was frightened out of his wits by the time he got to the bottom of the stairs. And because he was out of his wits, he didn't think to call the police, and instead decided to do what he was told not to do—confront whoever it was in his kitchen.

As he walked towards the kitchen he tried to convince himself that it wasn't the burglar. _It's just Kakashi,_ he thought. _He must be here to tell me about his job again._ By the time he got to the door he had an amused smile playing on his lips, convinced it was Kakashi. _Why can't he pick a better time to talk with me about things?_ He swiftly pushed the door open and closed it behind him, having been staring at the door and not yet looked into the kitchen. So when he turned around, instead of being greeted by a shock of white hair …

… Bewildered blue eyes framed by golden hair and skin stared at him from his table. Iruka blinked and stared back. It was a boy. He couldn't have been older than sixteen. Said boy jumped up from the table, backing against the wall. His head swung around and Iruka figured he was looking for some kind of escape, like a window, but Iruka didn't have a window in his kitchen. But he didn't reach for a hidden weapon—instead he just sank to the floor and put his head between his knees. Obviously he wasn't 'armed and dangerous.'

Iruka looked at him some more. What caught his eye was that the boy's clothes were dirty, like he'd worn them for weeks. They were holey and ragged, and even his shoes were scuffed and had ripped in places. The boy's face was grimy in addition. Iruka thought it looked almost like those were the only clothes he'd ever had. And another thing he noticed was that through the thin, nearly-ruined shirt he could see the teen's ribs. He looked over to where he'd been sitting at the table and saw a lone bowl of ramen and a carton of milk …

Iruka sat down at the table and pushed the bowl and carton over towards the seat opposite of him. The blonde eventually looked up and saw him sitting there, legs crossed and fingers bridged. Iruka looked him over once more cautiously before nodding his head to the bowl with a smile.

A look of distrust painted the boy's features. "… 'S not poisoned … is it?"

"If I had done anything to poison it in the time you sat there looking down, you probably would've heard it," Iruka replied, gesturing quietly with a hand to the bowl.

The blonde sized him up with his eyes one more time before he slowly moved towards the table, watching for any kind of reaction, then sank into the seat. He stared with furrowed brows for a few moments longer before proceeding to voraciously empty the bowl. He completely tuned out the man across from him, concentrated only on satisfying his hunger. It was as Iruka thought—this was just a starving kid. A very crafty starving kid.

"… Why don't you just stay home and eat?" Iruka asked him hesitantly. The boy looked up at him warily. "I mean … well, you know it too, right? That you're wanted in this town for a series of thefts … of food, apparently." He watched him nod. "So … why?"

"… Don't have a family. Mom and dad died a long time ago."

"Then why didn't someone take you to an adoption agency?"

"I got taken once. That family threw me out when I started making trouble."

"Making trouble?"

He shrugged. "Got into a fight or two."

"Then why don't you just go back to the agency—?"

"Hell no! I didn't like my last family anyway! What's the point in going if I'm gonna end up on the streets again?"

"The point is that at least the police aren't hunting you down, and you've got a much better chance of not starving to death."

He went silent, having finally emptied the bowl, not giving any response.

"… Look … I know I'm out of my God-given mind to do this, but I'm going to let you off with a warning," Iruka said with a sigh. Bright blue eyes looked up at him with hope. "Luckily you haven't hurt anyone. But that's not going to matter to a father who has his own family when you're in their kitchen stealing from their fridge. The longer this continues, the more likely it is that you will be shot full of lead before the police can even take you away. So consider going to the agency before it's too late. Before you're dead or an adult—once you're an adult, this will become your permanent life, if prison hasn't already."

"… Why are you letting me go?"

Iruka sighed again. "… It doesn't feel right to put a kid in prison because he has to steal food to survive. You could be faking right now to manipulate me, and I know that very well. But … I can't rightly condemn you if there's a possibility you aren't."

He took the bowl and set it in the sink before picking up the carton of milk and handing it to the boy. "Take this and come with me. How did you get in?"

He stood and took the carton, holding it to his chest like it was a jewel. "Broke the lock on the door …"

"Then I'll show you out. Luckily you didn't break any windows, so if I just send you out and shut the door, anyone watching will think I let you in. Now hurry. If you left the door open, we have to get you outside before someone notices." Iruka took him gently by the shoulders and guided him out of the kitchen, through the living room and to the door. "Now go. And remember what I told you."

The boy stared at the outside world and then looked back at him with eyes that shone like they were about to shed tears. "Mister … Thank you."

Iruka smiled. "The name is Iruka. Don't let me down. Go."

The boy didn't need to be told again. He dashed out of the house and down the street, still clutching the milk carton to his chest. Iruka closed the door and shook his head, wondering how sleepy he must've been to let a thief get away. He sincerely hoped he'd done the right thing, or else he'd be an accomplice. And speaking of sleep, now he was exhausted.

He trudged up the stairs and dropped onto his back on the bed, closing his eyes and immediately drifting off to sleep.

**(XXX)**

As Iruka yawned and stared at the papers on his desk everything that had happened the night before seemed like a dream. He was so tired that it wasn't even two o' clock and the lines on all his paperwork were blurring. He rubbed his eyes and struggled against the temptation to just rest his head on his arms and go to sleep.

Ice-cold fingers pressed into his neck and he jolted awake, turning around.

"Kakashi, what in the world?!" He said.

"Just brought some soda back from the vending machine," he said, showing him the bottle. "I noticed you were about to fall asleep on the job and my fingers were cold and well …" He didn't finish the thought. "What's up with you today, anyway?"

He forced a smile, remembering the previous night. "I just had an awful lot of trouble going to sleep last night."

Kakashi quirked a brow at that and Iruka wished he could've discerned the rest of his expression, but unfortunately since Kakashi's weirdness extended into clothing taste and he wore a black mask over his mouth, it prevented the outside world from observing anything his mouth might tell them. He was surprised they even hired the guy if he wouldn't show his face.

"Has it been like that a lot recently?"

"Well, for the past few nights at least. I don't really understand why."

"Then if you're not going to get any sleep anyway …"

"No."

"Come on, Iruka-san. My fridge is empty and I just had a breakup."

"When is that not the case?"

"Give me a break!"

"…"

"Please?"

"… Ugh, alright, fine. But can't you bring your own food?"

"Fridge is empty, remember? Later."

Iruka sighed as Kakashi turned and headed off back to his own desk. He watched him as he left, silently mulling over things. He knew that Kakashi was just trying to be helpful. Most people wouldn't have noticed—his actions could be very vague. But Kakashi always showed up at his house when he was having trouble and when something confusing had happened, so Iruka had reason to think it wasn't mere coincidence. More than that, there was something else. If one had watched the exchange, they probably would've thought that Kakashi was just stopping by Iruka's desk on his way to his own after getting a soda.

However, Kakashi's desk was in the opposite direction on the floor above Iruka's.

**(XXX)**

"You met the criminal?" Kakashi asked incredulously over his cup of cocoa.

"You promised to keep quiet," Iruka growled in warning.

"I know, I know. But seriously, you just let him leave with your food?"

"Just hush and listen. He wasn't a criminal, he was a kid. A _starving_ kid. I could see the bones sticking through his sides. I backed him into a corner and the least he did was curl up into a ball in fear. Obviously he was just trying to get enough to eat."

"But still … it's stealing. It's a crime."

"So is self-defense. But there are people who don't get charged for it because it was done for the sole purpose of survival. Yet it's viewed differently here, and people can just cold-heartedly say it doesn't matter if the kid was hungry, merely because the event that happened wasn't something like a situation that calls for self-defense."

"Wow, that was harsh, Iruka."

"Yeah, well, seeing the cold hard world stare you in the face in the form of a kid—a _kid_, all on his own—makes you a little less willing to be kind."

"… Poetic."

"Kakashi, be serious! Wouldn't you have done the same thing?"

The white-haired man looked into his cup at his reflection, eyes tracing the scar above his right eye. "Yes. I know what it feels like to be stuck alone and without a sure way to make ends meet."

"We both do …" Iruka sighed and sat back in his chair. "… But now I'm even more worried. What happens now? What will happen to him?"

"Well, you told him about the adoption agency, right?"

"Yes, but he'd already tried it. And it landed him flat on his backside on his own again."

"So they abandoned him…? Did he ever say what happened to his real parents?"

Iruka shrugged. "All he said was that they died a long time ago."

"It must've been harder for him to cope if he'd never had to deal with abandonment before."

"… He's had to deal with it before."

"He was adopted twice?"

Iruka stared at him hard, expression set. "… Kakashi, when your father killed himself, how did you feel?"

Kakashi stared at him back, expression cold and calculating, bordering on quizzical. "After reflecting on it a while … I kind of felt like he had been a coward."

"And you felt like he'd left you behind, didn't you?"

"… So you're saying he felt like he'd been abandoned by his parents."

"In a way. He'd been left alone and while it was not intentional abandonment, it still felt just as bad as it would have if they'd just dropped him off at some park and told him to find a ride."

Kakashi leaned back in his seat and sighed. "… Iruka, you should've become a psychologist. Emotions … you seem to have a better knack and more of a passion for dealing with those than with those boring old numbers and letters at the office."

**(XXX)**

After a while of talking—since it did seem that Kakashi had had a pretty nasty breakup after all—and a little bit of hot cocoa and snacks, Iruka sent his guest off with a wave and a smile. Kakashi's eyes curved up into a grin and he waved back, heading down the walkway as he heard the door behind him close. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, looking up into the sky. It was cloudless and the air was cool. He was truly grateful to Iruka. Those casual talks and the way the sky was _always_ that way when he left was what made him almost look forward to a fight with a girlfriend or some problem at work.

He looked down again and a flash of yellow caught his eye. He blinked once and spied a head of blonde, spiky hair across the street on a boy looking left and right like he was trying to remember where he was. He was scrawny and his clothes were all dirtied and torn, and was that … was that a carton of milk he was holding?

"Hey kid," Kakashi yelled after looking both ways and starting across the street. The boy jumped and turned, frightened blue eyes staring widely at him. "What are you doing out here? Don't you know what time of night it is? You don't know what kind of strange people could be wandering out here at night."

"Ah … yeah, sorry," the teen answered, looking away. "I was just about to leave anyway …"

"Well … be careful," Kakashi said after a pause. He turned to head home.

"Wait, mister," the boy called. Kakashi looked back at him with a questioning stare. The blonde cleared his throat. "Um … do you know which house Iruka lives in? I … I've forgotten the exact address."

Kakashi observed him closely and tried to pinpoint the reason why a kid would be asking which house Iruka lived in, especially in the middle of the night. It was downright suspicious. The only kid who'd had any connection with him recently was …

… Oh.

Kakashi smiled widely in response and jerked his chin over towards the house he'd just left. "He's there. I just came from there so he should still be awake. While you're there, tell him Kakashi said thanks for the cocoa, okay?"

The boy nodded nervously and watched as Kakashi turned again, waving casually. He waited until the white-haired man was completely out of his sight before making a mad dash for Iruka's house and pushing the doorbell.

**(XXX)**

When Iruka heard the doorbell he had haphazardly thrown the cups and dishes into the sink and started his way up the steps. His mind drew a blank. _Kakashi?_ He guessed. _What could Kakashi possibly want now? Maybe he forgot something? No … he didn't bring anything. Maybe there was something more he wanted to tell me?_

He went back downstairs and quickly crossed to the door. He tried to turn the lock but forgot that it had been broken already by the crafty teenager that he oddly enough had shared with a casual, if not a little awkward, meal the night before. He mentally sighed and shook his head, pulling the door wide open.

"What is it Kakashi—?" He began, but froze. He stared ahead, somehow finding that the boy he'd just thought to himself about was standing right there in front of him, still holding the now-empty carton of milk.

"S-sorry … can I come in?" Blue eyes looked imploringly up into his and he found that any voice that might've been screaming at him to shut the door in his face had been at once silenced. His shoulders slumped slightly in defeat as he stepped to the side and motioned for him to enter. He moved inside and looked around before turning back to face Iruka. "I … I finished the milk … so … c-can I have some more to eat, please?"

Iruka sighed. "Look … I don't want to give you the wrong impression. I can't just give away food freely every night …"

"I-I know, so …" The boy pulled a ring off of his finger and presented it to him. "I found this in my pocket a long time ago …" Iruka looked at it and saw that it appeared to be a plain one made of sterling silver. "I thought … maybe y-you could get it traded in for some money or something …" He received a stare in return. He looked back with hopeful eyes. Then he remembered something and spoke once more. "Oh, and, some guy wanted me to tell you that 'Kakashi said thanks for the cocoa.'"

Iruka blinked at him slowly. The boy had a look about him of silent awe at the fact that Iruka took in company and treated them well so often. He was definitely still a child, so little of a threat that he didn't avoid talking to Kakashi, which might've aroused suspicion if he had been out to do something dangerous.

Iruka was sure of it now—he'd not been wrong before. This was just a kid.

"… What's your name?" He asked him. A guarded look crossed the boy's face, like he didn't want to divulge something that could give anyone a way to track him down and get him in trouble.

"… Uzumaki Naruto."

"Naruto … everything that you have with you … is that all that you have?"

"Uh … yeah, it is … why?"

Iruka sighed and scratched his head before smiling and gesturing towards the staircase. "Head upstairs and go into the first room on your left. But take a shower before you go to sleep."

Naruto's eyes widened and became a blue even brighter than the sky. "I get a whole room for the night?"

"You get a whole room," Iruka said, pausing and hoping he wouldn't regret what he was about to say, "for your whole life."

Silence stretched between them and he saw tears filling the orbs that never darkened but glistened, shining all the more. Words would've only cheapened the meaning that was clear and present in his expression. He closed the space separating them and clutched at Iruka in a quick hug before he remembered he was getting a bed and a shower and excitedly hopped away and up the stairs. Iruka stood amazed, watching him bound away, observing that Naruto had never even stopped to think that everything might be too good to be true … but certainly he would think about that when morning came, and things would still remain as they were, as if a silent and firm answer to his question.

Iruka still didn't understand why he'd done it. He couldn't fathom why he'd been so careless in the first place to let a criminal eat at his table. But he understood how it felt to be alone.

And well, it had become just lonely enough that he figured someone just as lonely would be all the better to share it with. So as he walked up the stairs after the bounding mass of blonde hair, listening to excited yelps about how the bed felt so much smoother than the ground and how the shower was so clean, he found he did not regret it—not one little bit.


	2. Living With Kakashi

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. It is a wonderful anime and manga and I command that you go purchase it now. 'Kay? 'Kay. This is strictly fan-made and no profit is being earned from it—it is just for the purpose of getting an honest writing critique (and to be some of my favorite characters … and maybe some not-so-favorite ones). So without further ado, please enjoy!**

**PLEASE READ THE INTRODUCTION. I mean, it's not REQUIRED but … ceiling cat would like it very much if you did.**

INTRODUCTION: Alright, so first off, this story was originally supposed to be a one-shot. This is not an explanatory statement, it is a warning. Because it was originally designed for it to be only one chapter, expanding the story might lead to great catastrophe. Therefore, brace yourself, and do not be afraid to give criticism—if all goes to hell in a hand-basket from here on in this story, I could use all the help I can get. Basically, I plan to introduce a bunch of my favorite characters as the main ones, as well as involve others that I don't like so much and use their presences effectively to generate the right feel that I want for the story. You will notice that since this is an alternate universe, some things are fitted with humanized explanations, such as Naruto and Gaara being Jinchuuriki and the Akatsuki's purpose, methods, and member qualities (if I decide for sure that I want to add them). The way they'll come together is predictable, yet it's strange how it seems almost like it's not. But you'll see after you read this chapter. I plan to do large portions of chapters or perhaps even whole chapters and devote them to individual characters so you can get a better feel of the situation. Don't worry: I won't leave you hanging with just this. Rate and review, and tell me if I'm doing well!

**(XXX)**

"Iruka, I'm going to become a therapist," Kakashi stated. It was like a point-blank shot had been fired off into Iruka's head. He blinked and tried to gather his thoughts from the shock of it. 

"You … what?"

"Part of the reason that I came over so late—and had so many breakups—was because I went back to college with a schedule set for the hours I had open after work. I'm going to become a therapist, and hopefully be able to offer group sessions for teens and young adults."

The only reason it shocked Iruka so much was because out of all the things Kakashi had divulged to him over the couple of years they'd spent working together and building a friendship, he'd never told him once about anything pertaining to hobbies, dreams, goals, and especially not going back to college to get an education.

"But … how did you juggle a job like that and an education? You work really long hours, right?"

"Yeah, but it's not too bad. There's not too much take-home work so that leaves me pretty free."

"But how are you going to hold it down in addition to being a therapist? That kind of profession involves much more work than that of an office job or going to college, I'm sure you know!"

"I know. But you have to believe me, Iruka, when I say I can do it."

"… How long have you been working on your degree?"

"…Longer than the two years we've known each other."

"… And how far along are you?"

"I'm nearly there. I'll be able to get into the practice legitimately by the end of this year."

"… You must've been working hard for this for a really long time, huh?"

"… Yeah."

"But why are you telling me all of this now?"

"I need to ask a favor of you to help my dream be complete."

"Oh … What is it?"

"I want to have sessions at your place."

There was a long pause, the whole time during which Iruka stared at him blankly. "… Use your own damn house."

"Iruka …"

"Kakashi, things are really tight for me right now. The last thing I want is to take on something else in the midst of my financial troubles!"

"Won't you listen to my reason before you decide?"

"Fine. What is your reason for choosing my home?"

"… Your refrigerator is always full."

"… Kakashi, I am about this close to—"

"It's not like that, just hold on a second! Whenever I come over, this place is like a happy home. I know that there will always be a carton of milk in the fridge for us to share, and a person I can count on to listen to my troubles. I want the environment to be like that. The only place I can think of like that is your house. I already am taking advantage of your kindness a lot, but this is the best option I can think of, and I want to give it a shot before settling for any less."

On one hand, Iruka was extremely concerned about the situation. He knew nothing about Kakashi's emotional stability, and if it was not very stable, having a job like that could tear him down from the inside out. He had a bit of an advantage against that from the education he was getting, but other than that, the road of a therapist was a dark one to travel down, because if you got lost in the problems of others and in your own emotions, you might not manage to return. He was also irritated at Kakashi for bringing up something like that on such short notice.

But on the other hand, it felt like the whole situation was a Godsend. Whatever being lived up in the sky and usually tormented him daily with boring office work he now swore to never curse again.

Taking care of Naruto had been tough from the get-go. Not only had Iruka already spent over a month sorting out all kinds of issues with the adoption agency, but he also had to get the boy his vaccinations—which he clearly did not have, defined by common sense if you believed his story—had to teach him how to mow lawns for some extra cash that could be used to buy his helping of the food, and rustle up even more money to buy clothes.

In addition to that, they'd had a very serious incident within the first week of living together—Iruka had heard loud sounds like things were being thrown about, dropped, and smashed, and growls and yells coming from the second floor. He'd rushed up to see what had happened and found Naruto curled in a ball on the floor, pupils dilated, teeth clenched, with various broken items lying around him as he growled continuously to himself.

After a long and gruesome process and three nights spent in a mental hospital, Naruto returned home with a container of pills and a diagnosis—schizophrenia. While the condition was mild, when the alternate persona (which Naruto simply referred to as the "Kyuubi") flared up, the reaction was very violent and extreme. The hospital had had a file on Naruto and his condition for quite some time, but because of interference from his biological family and foster family, who insisted that it was something different than what it was and private, the doctors had not been allowed to declare a diagnosis. There had been some threatening from some pretty good lawyers, and because the facility couldn't afford the risk of losing a lot of money to a lawsuit they left it at that. It made Iruka wonder what kind of families Naruto lived in that they could make an entire organization back down.

After Iruka thought about it for a while, he came to the conclusion that Naruto's condition might have been part of the reason he was abandoned by his previous foster family. And while Naruto was generally very docile—although Iruka had discovered he was loud-mouthed and silly—Iruka worried about what might happen if he was not around when Naruto started having problems. Certainly medication helped, but it might not be enough. Iruka had been thinking for while about trying to find a way to scrape some more money together to get Naruto a therapist as a way to help him open up and stay relaxed, but he was still paying off the damages from the "Kyuubi's" first appearance, and could not afford such a luxury.

Therefore, he had something Kakashi wanted, and Kakashi had something he could give in exchange. So even though Iruka disliked the idea of a lot of strangers being in his house, he sighed and settled for a trade.

"Fine. But on one condition."

**(XXX)**

"What? That weird masked man is gonna be my therapist?! He's creepy as hell, and I don't even need a therapist anyway!" Naruto squawked in indignation. "I don't know how you and he are such good friends!"

Iruka sighed. Naruto might have been literally living off the land for a large portion of his life but his mannerisms had quickly evolved into those of a modern teenager—and apparently he'd grown up to be just as stubborn and independent as one also, however ironic that might've been.

"We're not really that close," Iruka said. "He just shows up at my house and at work and we talk a little bit. It just so happened that this time he had an idea that was of use to me—it has nothing to do with being close."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Iruka-sensei," Naruto said, slurping on his bowl of ramen, which he'd insisted on having even though it was only breakfast. "You guys are so lovey-dovey that it makes me wanna hurl."

"Lovey-dovey?"

"Ouch! Iruka-sensei, let go of my ear—!"

"Why should I? Maybe you'll learn to watch that mouth of yours if I discipline you every now and again."

"You're a terrible host! You don't deserve to have mask-man's sessions in your home!"

"Weren't you the one complaining about it not two seconds ago?"

"That was before I found out that your grip stings like a—ouch!"

"Watch your language!"

Iruka gave one last tug on Naruto's ear before releasing him and resuming his position across the table from him. Naruto rubbed his ear gingerly, pouting.

"But still … I mean, I would be fine if it were just one-on-one sessions, but there's a whole group, right? That's just a pain in the a—" Iruka looked at him sharply, "…butt."

"You shouldn't have any complaints about that—since you're behind in your education and can't go to a normal high school this would be a great opportunity for you to meet kids close to your age," Iruka pointed out. "And Kakashi's always been kind to you, as far as I can remember."

"I just hate first impressions! I don't want to be stuck with a bunch of people who will look at me funny if I make a bad first impression. That would be awful."

Iruka looked at Naruto's expression for a moment. It was lonely and scared, an expression belonging to a child who'd never been able to function properly in relationships for all of his life. He stood and walked over, patting his head gently, surprised ocean-blue eyes lifting up to meet his.

"No one is going to look at you strangely, Naruto. If they're in therapy, they will all be in the same boat," Iruka assured him, smiling warmly. "You have to be more confident in yourself. Even if you're not accepted at first, you have to keep working at it, and if you give it your all and continue to work hard, someday you will be acknowledged by everyone. So don't be afraid."

Naruto's eyes shone in adoration, a goofy smile spreading across his face that he couldn't stop. He set his chopsticks down, completely abandoning his bowl of ramen—something Iruka hadn't seen the boy do whenever a bowl of it was in front of him—and wrapped his arms around Iruka's midsection, hugging him.

"… Iruka-sensei, I think I understand now … why Kakashi-sensei chose your place."

**(XXX)**

The end of the year had come quickly for Naruto, who had been studying like all hell and working just the same. While Iruka was very kind to him, he was also very strict and very frank—especially when it came to telling him that he'd have to start making his own money and study hard if he wanted to stay. Luckily the manager of an eatery called Ichiraku, a kind old chef, upon hearing Iruka come into his shop and lament over his bowl of ramen, told him that the restaurant was hiring on some more waiters because their hours of operation had been extended. Naruto was hired, and best of all got to work around the food he loved the most and have a bowl of the heavenly meal during his break (although the cost was taken out of his salary).

His hours were not very desirable, as they started late in the evening and ended in the early morning, and then he had to cram studying into the time between when he woke up and when he went to work, but to him it was worth it. His determination had paid off when he'd finally earned enough to get a nice new set of clothes for himself, in what seemed to be his favorite colors—orange, black, and blue.

Every day when he awoke and the time during studies after the elder had returned from work he got to sit and talk with Iruka. He had admired the man ever since the night he'd broken into his house when they first met and by now considering him as family was as natural to him as breathing. Things had been progressing wonderfully for the blonde boy, and he knew by Iruka's smile that he was happy for him. But Naruto was not an idiot—he knew that even with him earning his keep, things were getting tough on his housemate. More than one time he'd gone down in the middle of the night to grab a snack and saw Iruka at the kitchen table, his head lying on his arms, scraps of paper with dollar signs scribbled all about.

He was getting worried about him, but he couldn't say or do much of anything—he knew that if he brought it up Iruka would tell him not to worry about it and then turn right back around and suffer more. Yet while there was nothing _he_ could do …

Naruto and Iruka usually both were woken up sometime during a few nights by Kakashi's bustling about the kitchen, so by now they were used to automatically getting up and heading downstairs at about the same time to go greet him. However, tonight, Iruka had been too tired and too deeply asleep to awaken at the correct time, which was perfect for Naruto. He wanted a chance to talk to Kakashi alone. So he crept out of his room, through the hall, down the steps, and peeked into the kitchen, watching and listening for signs of the white-haired man.

It wasn't long before he saw a bent figure illuminated by the light of the refrigerator. Gray-white hair lifted from where it had been in the fridge and two eyes of high contrast—the right dark, and the left red—look at him in what almost seemed like mild surprise. There was a scar running down the left eye, and it folded slightly as he smiled in recognition at Naruto. He kind of wanted to ask how the man had gotten that scar …

"Evening, Naruto," Kakashi companionably called out to him. He grabbed a mug of hot chocolate already prepared from the countertop and sat down at the table, patting a chair next to him. "Come sit, I won't bite." 

Naruto scuttled over to the chair and plopped down in it. He immediately provided the reason for Iruka's absence, which was an obvious question that Kakashi's eyes asked. "Iruka-sensei was really tired, so he didn't wake up, and I didn't try to wake him up either. There's something I need to talk to you about, Kakashi-sensei … as friends of his."

Kakashi raised an eyebrow at that, a little sparkle dancing in his eyes. "Oh?"

Naruto nodded. "Since you're good friends with Iruka-sensei and all, you've probably already noticed this … but he is having trouble, and I can tell."

"… Financial trouble, you mean."

"Yeah … and I know it's 'cause of me. I work real hard, but it's never enough. That paycheck barely covers two-thirds of my expenses, and Iruka-sensei is left to pick up the slack. I can't take on another shift because he's making me study, and every time I try to talk to him about it, he just brushes it off like I'm imagining things."

"… Yeah. Iruka … is the kind of person who will completely disregard all of his problems for the sake of another."

"I want it to stop! There's gotta be some way to help him! That's what I want to talk to you about!"

"Me? What can I do? Even if I tell him to do something, he probably won't listen."

"Move in with him!"

Kakashi nearly fell out of his chair. "Move in with him? What are you talking about?"

"Well you're here all the time anyway!" Naruto said in exasperation. "He even wakes up in the middle of the night every night so that you have someone to talk to! And if you moved in, you would both be paying for only one bill, not two—that should even leave money to spare!"

Something in Kakashi's head finally clicked. The suggestion had seemed sudden at first, but he realized that Naruto had thought deeply about it, and had actually come up with a very good idea. Convincing Iruka of that, however, was another matter entirely.

"Naruto, you really don't know Iruka …"

"No, I don't," the young boy admitted glumly. "But one thing I know is he's suffering because of me. I don't want to be the reason he can't be happy." He looked up at the older man beseechingly, vigor renewed. "You're the only option that I can think of! If asking won't pay off, sneak your way in! Don't just give up—this is your friend … no, _our _friend we're talking about here!"

"Don't get all melodramatic on me, Naruto."

"… Kakashi-sensei … after all that Iruka-sensei has done for you … are you really satisfied with just giving up?"

"…"

"… Look me straight in the eye … and tell me that you will abandon him because he's a stubborn man."

"… That's not what I'm doing."

"You're wrong. It is. Any way you look at it, that's what you're doing. You've come up with a clever disguise and excuse—at heart you're a lazy man. Is Iruka-sensei not important enough for you to give it all you have?"

"… Stop talking to me like I'm some jerk. I was only warning you—I wasn't saying I'd abandon Iruka."

"So then you'll try to convince him?!" Naruto's eyes shone with excitement.

Kakashi just sighed deeply before he gave in completely. "It will definitely take some work … but I've pulled off greater before. I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Kakashi-sensei! You're the greatest! You're not gonna regret it, I promise!"

Kakashi sighed again, already mulling over half-formed plans in his head, but his eyes quickly curved into a smile. "… Yeah. We'll definitely break Iruka."

Then he smiled and gestured for Naruto to lend his ear.

**(XXX)**

Iruka's world was in a whirlwind. Nothing had gone according to plan. Although not all of it was bad, all of it was irritating, and some of it even felt insulting after a while. He sat at his desk, his head in his hands, as he silently complained to himself, and wondered how everything had just blown right over his head. Some of the irritation was due to his inability to come up with enough funds to take care of both himself and his foster son. But most of the irritation was due to a certain snowy-haired coworker of his …

Over the period of a couple of weeks, Kakashi had completely moved in on him and cornered him. He'd started coming every day—even during the daytime, which he didn't usually do—and drove home with Iruka from work. Then he began asking to spend the night first only one night, then for nights at a time. One day Iruka had told him that his house was not a hotel, and Kakashi had looked at him very seriously before pulling out a roll of bills, suddenly stating that he'd left his apartment and would pay for a place to stay.

Since Iruka had been preoccupied with so many other things, he didn't have the patience to fight with Kakashi—and he desperately needed the roll of bills. So after some negotiation, they'd settled on paying the bills half and half, as well as agreeing to save up all the money left over for Naruto's education, Kakashi's future as a therapist, and Iruka's unfulfilled and long-overdue hobbies. Only after some of his stress had evaporated did he realize that it was extremely unfair the way Kakashi had pushed his way into his home … and not to mention his life.

He lifted his head as he heard familiar footsteps approach and stop in front of his desk. A cup of coffee was set down on his desk by the masked man he'd become so accustomed to seeing now every day of his life. He never thought he could get used it … but here they were. It left him a little awed. Kakashi pulled a chair over and sat on it facing backwards towards Iruka with his own cup of coffee in his hands.

"Thanks," Iruka said.

"No problem," Kakashi replied. Iruka took a sip of his coffee and let the bitter warmth seep into his chest. The space between them was deathly silent for a while—something it hadn't been in quite some time. Then Kakashi spoke very seriously and almost meekly. "… Look, Iruka, I really do apologize. I know you're upset because of me. But now that I'm on the inside, I can finally let you know why I did what I did."

"… So, you really have a sensible reason other than to mooch off of me, do you…?"

"You're so harsh, Iruka."

"Well, since you seem so confident, I'll hear you out."

"Thanks. You probably won't believe me … but I'll give it a try anyway."

"You can't just give it up, can you?"

Kakashi's eyes curved into a peculiar, warm little smile. "That's right."

Then he began to tell Iruka the whole story.

**(XXX)**

An early morning, started by the sound of a body falling out of bed, cursing and tripping over objects in a dark room. The click of a light switch that illuminates the room, and leads the person to the hall. The sound of hot water running and washing away the grime of the previous day's hard work and current hidden troubles. A yelp when the toilet is flushed and the hot water burns the skin with an invisible fire. The soft thud of clothes being thrown out of the bureau drawers after he returns to the place from whence he awoke, and a huff of content when just the right combination is found. The sound of friendly footsteps in the kitchen, and the smell of bitter coffee and sweet syrup in his cereal. The clanking of the spoon in the empty bowl, and the screech of the chair as he stands. The crinkling of the newspaper he opens as he heads out the door, and the sudden absence of the head of hair that resembles a mountain's peak. A key turning, an engine rumbling, and neighbors cursing as the tires' squealing fades into the distance.

A bed to make, clothes to sort. A shower to clean and a wet floor to mop. Dishes to wash and food items to put away. A chair to push back under the table, where it rightfully belongs. A newspaper gone, never to be returned—another one to buy. A door left open to be closed. A bike to ride, neighbors to console. Work to be done, a break accompanied with his happy atmosphere, a cup of coffee to share. A time to stand up for one another in front of the manager.

The end of the day. A ride home in the car that had disappeared, the bike riding contently on the back. The sound of boiling ramen in the kitchen, and the happy smile of a blonde boy welcoming them back. Chatter about the pleasantness of work being over is accompanied by the slurping of flavored noodles. Then with a curt goodbye and received with a well-intentioned "good luck," that snow-cap of a man disappears to spend another day finishing up school.

A late night, a door slamming. Heavy footsteps ascending the stairs and proceeding through the hall. The opening and closing of the door to the room once awoken in and the click of the light being turned off, immediately followed by the obvious sounds of someone tripping. More cursing, more grumbling. Then there is silence, giving way to a restful night.

This is the daily routine in a happy "family" of three.

Through this, Iruka quickly discovered just how it felt to live with Kakashi.


	3. We're All Just A Little Screwy

**Disclaimer: I own none of Naruto. I might WISH I did, but I don't. However, it is a great manga and anime, and you should go buy like fifty-thousand volumes! Go do it NOOOW! This little project is just for fun and writing critique. So please sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.**

**(XXX)**

The time for the first gathering of Kakashi's therapy group had finally arrived. He had a friend, a former client of his at the office, who did wonders for him in the world of advertising—a sun-browned, easy-going man with a beard, calm eyes and a cigarette always hanging from his lips. His name was Asuma. Of course his services were not free, however while neither Kakashi or Iruka had a cent to pay him, Asuma cut them a deal much like the one Iruka had cut with Kakashi before—Asuma had a student in an extremely unfavorable situation, and he noticed his mental and physical health gliding smoothly downhill. So in exchange for his help in getting a select and desirable group of participants as the jumping-off point for Kakashi's career, he required that the pigeon-haired man let his student into the program for free for the first few sessions, afterwards which Asuma would pay for them himself.

The fated meeting day had been approaching much too rapidly for poor Naruto. Work made the days go by quickly, and because of that, he had no mental preparation for his first encounter with what he expected to be a fairly large group of people. Even though Naruto had very mild issues, insisted jovially that he would be fine, and had already taken his pills, Iruka was still extremely concerned about his mental state of health. He could tell Naruto had been nervous the whole day because he barely touched his food and spent large amounts of time pacing back and forth in the living room. The only good thing he had going for him at the time was the fact that Iruka had told him he wouldn't have to study that day because of the session and the time it would take up.

Kakashi looked at the boy with pity and concern, although it couldn't be helped. If they didn't get him into the swing of associating with other people soon, he might end up closed off from the rest of the world, and that could make everything twice as worse for _all_ of them, in more ways than one. But Naruto wasn't the only one feeling nervous. Kakashi himself was continually contemplating, a little uneasy about how the first session would go. After all, it was his first real day on the job.

He checked his watch over and over, looking on as the minutes dribbled away like sand in an hourglass. When anxiety began to overwhelm him he reflected on the long hard road he'd taken to get here, and strengthened himself for the one that lay ahead. He looked back down at his watch a final time as the last minute ticked by. Then he heard the doorbell ring. He stood to go answer it, but stopped at the sight of Iruka jogging down the steps.

"Oh, Kakashi!"

"Who else did you expect?"

"Hah, well, you're always late to all your appointments, so I didn't expect you to be waiting at the door."

"I'm hurt, Iruka, I really am."

"I'm sure you are."

The doorbell rang again. Kakashi looked at it once before turning back to Iruka. "If you don't mind, could you go boil some water for tea? Bring it out here and set it on the coffee table."

"Ugh, I guess. But I'm not going to be your waiter. You'll have to serve yourself after this." Iruka went into the kitchen and pulled out a kettle, preparing the stove. Kakashi looked at Naruto, who was pacing the living room floor, in his own little world.

"You help too, Naruto."  
"Y-yes! What should I do, Kakashi-sensei?!"

"Push some of the armchairs over so they're next to the couch and coffee table."

While Naruto did as he was told, Kakashi walked to the door and opened it, looking out into the late afternoon air.

"Sorry for the wait. A few things were being taken care of," he said with a polite smile.

Two people, a woman and a boy, obviously mother and son, stood at the door. Both of them had tan skin and dark, sharp eyes, their hair matted and brown. They had identical red tattoos on their cheeks as well, one on each cheek in the shape of an isosceles triangle. Kakashi recognized them immediately from a prior meeting.

"Ah, the Inuzukas," Kakashi said cheerfully. He looked at the boy. "It's nice to have you here, Kiba. Come in, come in."

Kiba walked inside the house but his mother stayed behind and gave a wave. "I don't have time to come in and chat right now. Just do what you can to fix my screwy son."

"Ma," Kiba whined. "I ain't friggin' screwy!"

"Yeah, whatever you say. Keep a close eye on him, Hatake-san. This one's a biter."

"Ma! Get out!"

She stuck her tongue out and turned to leave. Kakashi closed the door behind Kiba. "Your mother is quite the peach."

"You have no idea," Kiba groaned. "She's the friggin' screwy one!"

"Moms will be moms."

Kiba looked the therapist up and down with a hint of recognition. "You're that one dude … Kakashi or something."

"Yeah. But you can call me whatever you want, as long as it's not too obscene."

"Then … who the hell is that?"

Kiba pointed to Naruto, who was pushing chairs into place, struggling with one particular armchair, making quite comical faces.

"Oh, that's Naruto," Kakashi said. "He's Iruka's—I mean, my landlord's son. He's going to be joining us for our sessions. For now he's just pushing some chairs together so we can all have a place to sit together."

Naruto pushed with all his might, the chair inching along. "Ugh…! Damn … you! I won't let a piece of furniture like you beat me—!"

"…He's one weird kid," Kiba commented before going over, cracking his knuckles before giving the chair a heaving push, only to have it push back firmly against him. "Holy—this thing is heavy…!"

"I know, right?!"

They eventually managed to get it moved close enough, then just leaned on the back of it and caught their breath.

"You can move your own damn chair next time, Kakashi-sensei …" Naruto muttered.

"Honestly, though …"

Suddenly Naruto's eyes lit up as he noticed something around Kiba's neck. "Hey, is that a choker?!" He pointed to a black collar around the other boy's neck.

Kiba touched his hand to it, like he just remembered it was there. "No, it's a dog collar. I thought I'd give it a try and see if it suits me. You like?" He grinned, abnormally sharp canine teeth showing.

"I didn't know you could do that! Hey, does that mean you're part-dog? Like some kind of superhero?"

"A superhero? I wish …"

"Let me see, I wanna try it on too!"

"No way!"

"Come on!"

Naruto reached aggressively for Kiba's neck with both hands.

"Naruto," Kakashi said very firmly.

He startled the blonde, who looked over at him in confusion. "…What?"

Kakashi eyed him suspiciously for a few moments before waving it away. "Never mind."

Naruto's hands dropped to his sides as he frowned and furrowed his brows at Kakashi. "…"

Kiba noticed the tense atmosphere and removed the collar, pulling it around Naruto's neck. "Alright, you can try it on, but just this once. And you have to give it right back."

"Really?! Awesome! You're the best … uh … uh …"

"Kiba. Inuzuka Kiba."

"You're the best, Kiba!"

"You bet your ass I am."

"I dunno if I wanna bet my ass."

"Good, 'cause you might lose it."

"Hey, how does it look?"

"Okay, I guess. But it doesn't suit you. You don't look mangy enough."

"I totally could if I wanted to!"

"Well you'll need a few improvements. First, your hair is way too smooth."  
"Hey! Don't touch my hair!"

"And your clothes need to be more rumpled."

"Ahah! Stop it, that tickles—!"

"Fleas would be a nice touch too … but you'll have those any minute now. That's my dog's collar."

"What?!"

"I'm kidding! … About the fleas, anyway."

They laughed and talked back and forth as Kiba put back on his collar. Kakashi chuckled and shook his head at them. Then the doorbell rang again. "You two sit down and get comfortable. There should be some tea shortly."

They both plopped down on the couch and continued talking and jesting and poking at each other. Kakashi was glad to see that Naruto was already hitting it off well with someone. He walked back over to the door and opened it.

Standing at the front door was a boy with brown eyes, and very sharp, severe features. His dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail that protruded in a shape that closely resembled a pineapple. Kakashi remembered very well his previous meeting with this boy.

"Ah, Shikamaru. Glad to see you actually decided to show up," Kakashi said.

"If it were up to me, I probably wouldn't have," Shikamaru stated frankly. "But Asuma-sensei kidnapped me and made me. He's sitting back there in his car right now."

When Shikamaru gestured to a vehicle behind him, the horn honked, and Asuma waved at Kakashi with a smile. Kakashi waved back with an amused expression. "Yeah, that Asuma is one hell of a guy. Well, come in. There are already two others inside."

Shikamaru lazed through the door with a slow, relaxed gait, and slightly-stooped shoulders. They were the shoulders of someone who slept all day and played video games endlessly, although Kakashi saw through that disguise quite easily, having talked with him before. He slowly lowered himself into armchair Kiba and Naruto had struggled to move and lied back, closing his eyes.

"Hey, what's your name?"

He opened his eyes to see the blonde sitting on one of the armrests, looking at him. He blinked at him and paused with a sort of skeptical look about his face before answering. "… Nara Shikamaru."

"I'm Naruto! And this is my new friend, Kiba!" Naruto pointed to Kiba, who had just perched on the other armrest.

Kiba waved with a wolfish grin. "Inuzuka Kiba."

"Yeah, whatever …" Shikamaru said, sinking back into the chair. "I'm so tired …"

"Huh? Why? Did you not get enough sleep?" Naruto asked him.

"I got plenty of sleep," Shikamaru replied with a yawn.

"Did you do a lot of hard work today?"

"No."

Kiba scrunched up his nose at that. "So then you're a lazy-ass?"

"Sit back a little, will you? Your breath smells like a dog's."

"What was that, you bastard?!"

"He is kind of right …" Naruto pointed out.

"Hey! Whose side are you on?!"

"I don't know! I didn't think we were taking sides!"

"Don't you generally take sides in an argument?!"

"I didn't know this was an argument!"

Kakashi watched them from afar, holding a cup of the tea—although, notably, _not_ drinking it (which meant the mask stayed in place and tea was wasted)—Iruka had just brought out, chuckling quietly.

"They really seem to bicker a lot …" Iruka said.

"They're teenagers. All teenagers are on a mission to rip each other to pieces."

"Hah, your words have some truth. It's quite frightening."

"Nothing a little tea and shock therapy can't handle."

"Hey now …" Iruka gave him a playful smack on the arm. "Are there any more coming today?"

"Well, the only ones I've met are these three. Asuma said there might be a couple more coming, but the only sure ones we've got are already here."

"It's a small group for starting out …"  
"It is, isn't it?"

"Is this alright? Will you get much of any place like this?"

"God willing and Asuma doesn't die from lung cancer."

Iruka decided to leave before things got ugly, putting the kettle and cups down before jogging upstairs. Kakashi stepped over to the place where the three of them were still making a fuss, setting down his teacup on the coffee table. He reached over and grabbed Kiba and Naruto both by the ear.

"Ow, ow, ow! Kakashi-sensei, let go!" Naruto yelled.

"What's the big idea, mountain peak?!" Kiba growled.

Kakashi merely smiled at them, betraying the rather rough motion with which he used to pull them down into their seats. "Nothing. It's just time to start."

When Kakashi let go and sat down in a simple wooden chair, both boys gingerly rubbed their ears, mumbling unintelligible curses. The newly-embarking therapist clapped his hands together. "Alright, we've already taken care of the 'meet and greet' part of the session. You all know very well who I am, and I'm sure you know a little about each other by now. Please note that you will probably be the only ones here for tonight, however if someone else shows up don't be surprised. And now that we've gotten that out of the way, I'll tell you a little about this program. I'm a little 'screwed up in the head' myself, so I'm not going to go through the usual interrogation and delving of personal matters. Please bear with me in that regard. For this first session though I would like for you to share a little more about yourself and why you are here. Any takers?"

He looked over the three faces, but both Kiba and Shikamaru avoided his eyes like the plague, taking interest in the wallpaper and Iruka's extensive decor. Only Naruto stayed facing him, so when dark eyes stared hard at him, cutting a path to his soul like a machete, he frowned and gave in.

"… Fine, I'll go first," he grumbled.

"If you insist," Kakashi said with a coy smile. "Please go ahead, Naruto."

Naruto scratched his head as curious eyes suddenly looked at him. Kiba was staring at him outright while Shikamaru pretended not to care, doing a pretty poor job. "Well … when I was a baby, my real parents died. Either that or they ran away or something because the two people who called me their real son were some lying bastards. That's probably why when I got sick or hurt they would wait and see if it would blow over instead of taking me to the doctor's. They must've been afraid that someone would take some tests on me and find out the truth, because if you even mentioned the word 'doctor' they'd get all jumpy. All of a sudden one day they just dump me down the street from an orphanage and tell me to go there on 'vacation' and I did, and found out where I really was. Then before I know it, some crazy people drag me to their home and start trying to get me to call them 'Mom' and 'Dad' and 'Sis.' They dumped me too, but they just left me out at a park somewhere where I couldn't find the orphanage. I started wandering around and came to some house where a pie was sitting on a windowsill to cool, and I took it, and from then on I started trying to find ways to break into people's houses so I could get some of their food."

"So you're the food thief!" Kiba said, pointing at Naruto, remembering the news reports. When the blonde boy grimaced in return he withdrew his finger. "… Sorry. Didn't mean it like that."

Both Kiba and Shikamaru were starting to look a bit skeptical by now though, wondering if a thief would really just be living in peace instead of being immediately apprehended. And if that was a lie, who knew what else could be?

"It was funny. A lot of the people that caught me in their houses were nicer to me than my foster parents and fake parents were. One time some big ol' guy caught me snooping in his fridge. When I got my head out of the freezer I was staring down the barrel of a rifle, and this guy was about to pull the trigger when he just pointed to the doorway and told me to leave and never come back, or he'd blow me full of holes. He could've just killed me without a second thought, but he didn't. One of those kinds of people was Iruka-sensei. Caught me and let me stay and finish my whole damn meal then gave me a carton of milk for the ride. I came back again later to give him his carton back and ask for some more food and he moved me in instead. Took me and got me shots, doctor's appointments and everything. Found out that half the reason why I was abandoned was because I had something called … schizophrenia, I guess … and it made me act all strange and stuff, like I was somebody else."

"Wait a minute. How do we know this is all true? Sure, maybe the schizophrenia part is, but what about the rest of it?" Kiba asked very blatantly.

"It really doesn't make much sense," Shikamaru added.

Naruto frowned. "I'm not very good at giving details, and I don't know exactly how everything happened, so it's hard to explain …"

"Then explain to them who that 'somebody else' was," Kakashi said, interrupting the impending interrogation.

Naruto's eyebrows drew together as he tried to make an illustration in the air. "Well, it's more like a voice than anything … but you know sometimes I saw red and some kind of huge fox-looking thing with nine tails, so I named it 'Kyuubi' …"

As Naruto began to explain, having difficulty all the while, Kakashi saw some awe seeping into the other boys' faces. Kakashi had observed that at first they didn't take Naruto's diagnosis or his story very seriously, but as they saw the boy with a deadly serious expression, explaining a figment of his imagination as if it were some completely real person sitting with them in the room, they did not take it lightly. Even Shikamaru had stopped pretending to be uninterested and was listening very intently with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Is it … is it here right now?" Kiba asked, almost as if he thought he'd be able to see it too. Kakashi could've smirked at Kiba's clever way of testing Naruto's current level of sanity, although he also realized that it was more likely that he was one of the duller knives in the drawer or he had problems just as bad as Naruto did.

"Well, since I started my medication, I can't see it or hear it anymore … but it always feels like it's there, you know? Sometimes that's even scarier than just seeing it sitting across from me with that creepy look on its face." Naruto scratched his head again. "I really … don't wanna think about it. Where'd I leave off again?"

"When Iruka took you in," Kakashi reminded him.

"Oh, yeah. So after we found out about all that weird stuff and got my meds and all that, Kakashi-sensei told Iruka-sensei about wanting to be a therapist and asked if he could have the sessions here, so in exchange for that, Kakashi-sensei agreed to give me therapy instead of Iruka-sensei having to pay a lot for it." Naruto was blissfully ignorant once more, the thoughts of the previous conversation already gone from his head. "That's how I got here."

"Very good, Naruto. Thank you for sharing," Kakashi said with a smile that had vanished for a few minutes but now returned warmly to his face. "Now, which of you would like to go next?"

Both Kiba and Shikamaru looked away again, still not wanting to say anything. They were also a little ashamed at their earlier distrustful behavior.

"Come on, don't be nervous. This is just a friendly setting where you can get things out in the open and get to know each other."

To them it felt harder to say anything because after hearing Naruto's story their problems seemed very insignificant. Kakashi and Naruto would probably be expecting something really screwed up after Naruto's opening. They both kept silent.

Kakashi stared hard at them for a while like he had at Naruto, trying to get them to talk. Unfortunately it didn't work well when their eyes were turned away and he was unsuccessful. The room settled into an awkward silence.

Kiba rubbed the back of his neck with a hand and Shikamaru suddenly found the floor much more interesting than their conversation. Kakashi gave a minute sigh and started to speak.

"You don't have to tell it," Naruto said before he got the chance. Shikamaru didn't look up but Kiba did, and in that moment he was ensnared in understanding blue eyes. "The only reason I told was because Kakashi-sensei was giving me the evil eye. So don't worry about it unless you really do want to tell."

Kakashi watched Kiba almost literally melt, the tension seeping out of his shoulders as his face donned a guilty expression. That same ocean blue gaze became filled with confusion upon seeing it.

"Kiba …?"

The wolfish boy whom Naruto had called out to decided to ignore his quizzical tone. He chewed on his thumb for about half a second as he mulled it over before he too gave in to the exercise with a bit of uneasiness.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell. But you better listen close 'cause I'm not gonna tell it again."

**(XXX)**

Note: I totally cut this chapter off right here because I want to devote at least half a chapter to Kiba and this one is getting long. Hopefully he'll get one full chapter, and hopefully I'm still doing well with keeping roles straight and will continue to do so. I also pray that I can finish the next chapter in a day or two. I really like writing this story and want to do more of it more often. We'll see what tomorrow brings.


	4. He Figured it Out?

**Disclaimer: I own none of Naruto, but I love the manga and anime, thus why I am writing this story! So go out and buy the manga and watch the anime. Please note that no profit is being made from this story. It's just a little project for fun and writing critique. Now that we've cleared that up, please enjoy the story, and rate and review if your heart moves you to do so.**

**WARNING:** There is a lot more crude language in this one. Don't get angry with me—it's not usually how I operate in my stories but Kiba cusses a lot. That's one thing I know for sure. So, his POV is going to have a pretty big amount of it (although I couldn't bring myself to type some of the more vulgar words in his vocabulary).

Please read the introduction again. It will give you a little warning about what is to come in this chapter.

INTRODUCTION: I'm already into the fourth chapter of this monstrosity of a project, and let me tell you, it's been one heck of a ride. I've been trying my best to keep roles straight but I have a tendency to throw in bits of myself which to me kind of throws everything way off (I'm O.C.D. about getting those kinds of things exactly right). So as I make my way in the world of fan fiction, I present to you the fourth chapter of "Raiding His Fridge." I will warn you right off the bat that I may completely screw up Kiba and his image in this chapter, so if you see something that could be changed, I don't care how small it is—let me know. Kiba is one of my favorite characters, so I want to make absolutely sure that his personality is right on the mark in this story. I've already had trouble making him arrogant enough in the chapter when he first appeared, so I hope I can accomplish more of that in this one. I know some of you will turn up your noses to the implications of Kiba/Shino in the first bit of this chapter, but bear with me. That's not really the focus of this chapter or Kiba's story. It's more like a jumping-off point. Anyway, enough of my ranting. Please enjoy and keep giving feedback.

**(XXX)**

Kiba didn't know when he started viewing Shino in _that_ way. For the longest time, ever since they were children and both hung out with the shy Hyuuga girl, Hinata, Shino had never been more than a strong link in their chain of three that couldn't be replaced—a link that really loved examining insects and could charm fleas out of the fur of Kiba's little white dog, Akamaru, like no one else could. Was he Kiba's best friend? Certainly not. He was more like a stranger standing on the corner that you walk by every day on your way to school. You tilt your head to him in greeting, exchange a few words, but other than that he is just another person you pass on the street, shrouded in mystery.

Then did that make what Kiba felt something like "love at first sight?" Did he just see Shino in one moment where he shone like the sun, and decide right then and there that he felt a lot more than what he should have? Even he didn't know. But for some reason he'd become accustomed to feeling that silent presence standing behind them, and although it had once been unnerving, it was slowly changing to something that was comforting—something that let him know that someone was still there. Sometimes he'd be walking along the street and swear that he could feel Shino standing behind him, and even when he turned and found there was no one there, it still oddly felt like the silent boy was somewhere nearby.

_What's so great about Shino anyway?_ Kiba would ask himself this many times and never find a straight answer. It didn't feel like he listened much whenever Hinata and Kiba vented to each other about the problems and tough times they were having. He never really gave any advice or did any of the typical things friends do—if they went to the arcade, he either just watched or sat at the snack bar; if one of them got sick, he never visited or even sent a get-well card, or asked later if they were feeling better; if they went to an amusement park he'd disappear off the radar until it was time to leave; and whenever they were at school, mostly he just had his nose in his books. However, there were also many pleasant things about Shino just in what he _didn't _do: he didn't try to bum money off of either of them to buy something; he didn't argue with any decisions they made unless he saw an obvious logical flaw; he didn't force his opinion on anyone and didn't even mention it unless asked to; he didn't try to boss anyone around; and he didn't have to explain to anyone why he liked the things he liked or did what he did because he was self-confident in his desires.

And there were some times when Shino actually would listen and try to be comforting, such as the time when Akamaru was in the hospital after running out ahead of Kiba as they were crossing the street, getting hit by a car. Kiba didn't really say much of anything that Shino could listen to, but the whole time that the little pooch was recovering Shino gave up every waking hour that he could manage to sit by its side and watch over it. He stayed even when Kiba and Hinata left, throwing away the time he usually saved for his bug-observing hobby to stroke Akamaru's ears until he was made to leave. The only way of expressing gratitude that Kiba had was a simple "Thanks, man." But in truth that small thanks was only a fraction of the gratefulness he held in his heart and he was frustrated that he couldn't show it any better. Akamaru couldn't express it any better than his master, but from afar he secretly adored Shino, and every once in a while he'd get his ears scratched or his fleas taken careof. That was enough for him.

It wasn't quite enough for Kiba, however, and he still hadn't been able to find an answer why. Maybe it was the way that Shino silently pointed to the perfect shirt when Hinata took them shopping or the amazing intuition he had that could tell you exactly what seasoning to put on your food. Maybe it was the way that he slipped you extra coins at the arcade so that no one could see when you were broke or the flat way he stated it when you had a cold—as if you didn't know. Maybe Kiba wanted to see the odd ways he would choose to love someone, or maybe he just wanted to love someone like that. Then did that mean he really did "love" Shino? Just what was that feeling?

And so the circles began.

**(XXX)**

Kiba opened up his locker and pulled some stuff out, preparing for the beginning of another week he'd spend avoiding Shino. He honestly couldn't think straight when the source of his problems was hovering quietly around him. He figured it was probably just a phase—his nervousness and the weird feeling of moths fluttering in his stomach would disappear with the changing seasons. It still hadn't happened yet, but he kept saying to himself 'Tomorrow for sure!' praying that maybe in just one more week he could go back to normal. Well, as normal as he could be, anyway.

He sighed, mumbling to himself as he ran through his schedule. He and Shino had first, third and fourth period together. In the first period he'd get to class early so he didn't have to run into him in the halls, and since his desk was at the back of the room he could easily jump up and get the hell out of there right when class ended. In third period he'd have to get to class early again, but his desk placement wasn't so convenient so he'd have to use the "I have to take a monster dump" excuse if Shino approached him, then spend ten minutes in the bathroom hiding before ducking out and hurrying as fast as he could to class. By fourth period he'd only have the option of dodging and weaving through people and hoping he wouldn't be caught. Most of the time this didn't work—however, Hinata was also in fourth period with them, so during the time they congregated he could focus completely on her until class started and then dash out after it ended, saying he had to get to class or he was going to be late.

Executing all of this daily was getting a little tiring, but it was better than him sitting around Shino and feeling awkward for at least two hours out of the school day, not being able to talk to him because he didn't trust his voice to keep his still very confusing feelings a secret. He wished that it could all go back to the way it used to be when they were small children and all that mattered was beating the last kid's high score in a video game or seeing who could eat the most at a buffet.

He groaned, slamming his locker shut and yelped when he saw dark sunglasses beneath a gray-green hoodie and sharp eyebrows standing right where the door of his locker used to be. He'd snuck up on him.

"What the hell, man? You scared the crap out of me!" Kiba said.

"I could ask you a similar question," Shino replied with his usual indifferent tone.

"Man, whatever, I have to get to class." Kiba hefted his backpack onto his shoulder and was about to leave when he was pulled backwards by the very same backpack and slammed into the lockers. His breath left him as he was suddenly standing face-to-face with the very problem that plagued him, not a few inches away.

"Class doesn't start for ten more minutes, and the first period class is only a few doors down." Shino said with an icy edge to his voice that Kiba hadn't heard once before. It sent a shiver up his spine and a bead of cold sweat rolling off his forehead. "You're avoiding me."

"A-avoiding you?! Why would I be?! That's ridiculous! Stop making crazy assumptions! I can't believe you'd think that—"

"Kiba."

"… What?"

"You're a horrible liar."

"Screw you!"

He could've opted for a word that was much worse but since they were in school and the teachers and hall monitors were anal about coarse language he couldn't drop the F-bomb there—at least not at the decibel he wanted to. Therefore he settled for that phrase, which could only be called "sophisticated" in comparison to his normal speech patterns, and shoved Shino away. He resisted the temptation to flip Shino off as he made his way to class. No footsteps followed him. No shadow walked alongside him. It was a little disheartening, but what did he expect?

He knew very well that the mess that had been made was his own damn fault.

**(XXX)**

Kiba really regretted ever calling out Hinata to talk about his "problem." And the worst part was that he couldn't even tell her just _who_ was giving him issues. He felt so lame trying to explain it all using the words "that person" instead of Shino's name like he was some chick trying to get relationship advice from her best friend whose ex-boyfriend just happened to be the one said chick liked. Needless to say, if he said it hadn't been the most awkward experience he'd ever had, he'd be lying.

He thanked God for Hinata's understanding and patience with him. That was one thing that a lot of people either took for granted or didn't know she had. Besides Kiba and Shino, no one could understand how much it meant for someone to simply pay attention and listen quietly.

"So … okay, well, you see, I have a little problem," Kiba started off, scratching his head. "A really confusing problem and I don't know how to deal with it."

Hinata simply blinked at him with an innocent smile. "I'm listening."

"Well … there's somebody that I … don't know if I like them like _that_ or not. But … it's really weird because … it was just all of a sudden, you know? We were never even really great friends or anything, just hung out sometimes and then it was just boom, one day my stomach blows up and I think 'what the hell?!' And then I remember all those crappy romance novels talking about how liking someone feels like you're gonna be sick and so I start panicking and … and who the hell would like someone like that anyway?! I mean, honestly, it makes no sense, and … and I have to spend all my time trying to avoid them! It's so embarrassing, and it feels like I'm just going to accidentally shout it out and then they'd freak out and … why are you laughing?!"

She had to hold her tiny hand to her mouth to stifle her giggling. "Hehe, sorry, Kiba-kun. But … you really are confused, aren't you?"

"Damn _straight_!" he growled, crossing his arms. "Who wouldn't be?!"

"Then why don't you talk it out with that person? I mean, it really does seem like you like them a lot, and you said you had to avoid them, right? They'll probably want to know why you have been running away."

"Look, you really don't understand …"

"But talking it out helps. And maybe if you get it all out of your system, you'll find that that was all you needed, and it will go away. Holding it in doesn't help."

He looked imploringly at her. "Hinata … seriously …"

"Kiba-kun, what could possibly be stopping you from doing that?"

"I like a guy, okay?!" He shouted out. Her eyes widened from his tone as his cheeks flared. He was so loud that other people in the hall had heard and turned their eyes towards him. He looked at them and barked, "The hell _you_ lookin' at?!"

Some people yelped as everyone either scurried away or turned back to their lockers like they hadn't heard anything. Kiba growled and turned back to Hinata, his whole face feeling like it was on fire. She blinked once at him before saying with a very innocent expression, "Oh, you're gay?"

"The hell?! No I'm not _gay_! It's _a_ guy, not _guys_! It's not the plural, damn it!"

She shielded herself with her hands. "S-sorry! I can see why you're nervous then …"

"Exactly!"

"… But I still think you should talk to him."  
"What?! No way! No way, no how, not _ever_! That's the _worst_ option for me right now!"

"Kiba-kun, if you don't come to terms with your feelings—and more importantly figure out your sexuality—things could get a lot worse. This situation is touchy and isn't going to get better if you just leave it be. You need to face yourself and then face the person you like to resolve your inner conflict."

He huffed, looking away. "… Whatever. I have to get to class."

Kiba abruptly turned and stomped down the hall, ignoring Hinata as she called out to his disappearing figure. For once, she didn't understand. She just didn't understand. And what was that part about "facing yourself" and "figure out your sexuality?" Was she implying that he was in denial about it?

_Like hell I am! I'm a hundred percent straight! I'm straighter than a pole! If I hadn't just blurted out that I liked a guy then everyone would think the same … wait, if I like a guy … doesn't that kind of mean I'm …? No, damn it! He's just different, is all! Yeah … Shino's just …_

He stopped walking. Was Shino really "special?" All of a sudden, out of the blue he just started liking him—yes, _liking_—so could he really call him "special?" Kiba had never felt much attraction to anyone before, boy or girl. Could it be that he was just the first … and because of that new sensation, it felt like he was special? And if that was the case, did that mean that there were a bunch of other guys—yes, _guys_!—or maybe girls that just didn't catch his attention because he was too preoccupied with trying to get away from that feeling? He went rigid as the second bead (and counting) of cold sweat rolled down his face. He started walking again, faster this time, shaking his head as he tried to rid himself of the thought.

_I've got a test today, I can't be thinking about these kinds of things! And if I don't start paying more attention in class my grades are screwed!_

If he could look back at that moment from the view of an out of body experience he probably wouldn't be able to believe that the carefree, school-hating, goof that he was had to resort to thinking about assignments and lessons to save his sanity. He was a pathetic shell of the happy-go-lucky, mouthy smart-ass that everyone laughed at in the cafeteria. Nobody spared him a glance as he walked by—and after all, it was too sad to watch.

_Just what am I? No, a better question would be, after this whole outburst, what will everyone think I am? What do they want me to be? Gay. That's what they'll want me to be. They'll try to turn my special person into a typical category of "types Kiba likes" only they'll stick the word "of guys" between the first two words. That means it's only going to get twice as confusing when I start trying to tell the difference between their wants and mine. Hinata was right … if I don't tell Shino … won't I be skipping out on an easy opportunity to confirm for myself whether or not this is just a phase, something unique, or a generality? … My mind … wasn't made to handle this kind of thinking …_

He could only pray that it ended soon … and honestly wasn't there only one way to end it? He'd have to tell Shino the whole truth and explain everything then see just what that stoic mask would reply with after he was done.

_Well, might as well get this over with,_ He thought. _I'll send him an e-mail tomorrow once I've got my head on straight … then maybe we can meet, talk this over and put this whole ugly mess behind us._

Unless of course it turned out to be something good—maybe then he wouldn't be so willing to try and forget about it all. But he had to take it a step at a time and the first step would be to make it through the rest of the day. The bell rang, indicating that he was late and he cursed at himself, flying down the hallway towards his classroom.

As people giggled at him and hurried off to class, at least one thing was plain to see from the now-bounding mass of energy: Kiba was back.

**(XXX)**

Kiba couldn't believe he was doing something like this.

He was sitting on a park bench, his backpack on his lap as he tapped his fingers nervously on it, waiting for Shino. Kiba had sent him an e-mail earlier telling him that there was something they needed to discuss, had asked if that park were okay as a place to meet, and got a response giving the thumbs-up. But now he wished like all hell that he could back out of it. He had to be freaking crazy if he was going to admit to Shino feelings that he hadn't even figured out yet if they were real or not.

He sighed and checked his watch, grimacing. Shino was late. He'd warned him in his returned e-mail that he had a troublesome teacher to deal with and that he might not let him leave for a while, so it was to be expected. But Kiba really didn't want the tension to be dragged on much longer. It was giving him a stomach ache. He looked back up and around the park, tapping his foot. There were some kids leaving with their moms and dads, looking very happy with the day and their lives. Kiba chuckled to himself a little and remembered his own mom, thinking it would do her some good to go back to being like those caring parents, just smiling and letting a kid have his fun.

He heard something move and curiously looked over in the direction from which he'd heard it. Three young men, about his age—possibly a year older—looked at him for a moment then turned away, chattering about things he couldn't hear. He narrowed his eyes a bit, gears turning in his head, but they soon gave out and he just leaned against the bench, going back to waiting. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes, letting the breeze tickle his face.

He could remember the first time he met Shino. In about the fourth grade his best friend Hinata walked up to him, pulling along a kind of creepy-looking boy the same age as them by the sleeve, giving him an exuberant smile.

"_Kiba-kun, this is my new friend, Shino-kun!" She said sweetly._

_The young Kiba eyed him skeptically. "This weird-looking kid is your friend? What, you like serial-killers now?"_

_Shino raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Hinata stammered, trying to explain. "N-no, Kiba-kun, it's not like that! He m-might look a little scary at first, but he's really nice! He's n-not like a serial-killer at all! P-please believe me!"_

_Kiba curled his lip at that. "Isn't he that kid with the weird bug-collecting hobby? Whaddya do, talk to them all day?"_

"… _No," Shino said, saying his first word since he'd walked up with Hinata. "But most likely it would be more intellectually stimulating than having a conversation with a conformist idiot like yourself."_

"_W-what'd you say to me, you jerk?! Why I ought to rearrange your face—!"_

"_N-no, Kiba-kun, don't do that!" Hinata squealed._

… The almost-grown up Kiba looked back on that memory with a happiness that had been missing during the time of the actual event. Who would've thought that Hinata would be right about him? All in all, Kiba had to admit that Shino was a pretty cool guy. And now … he was cool enough that Kiba had dug himself a hole deep enough to bury both him and his dogs by setting things up for a confession. The happiness went away and he sighed again, scratching his head.

"Well, I got myself into it …" He muttered. "I might as well get it over with."

"Hey, buddy, you look kinda down," a voice said. Kiba looked up to see that the three boys had approached the bench. He kind of recognized them now—he'd seen them at school before. "What're you doing, waiting for someone?"

Kiba eyed them somewhat suspiciously. "Yeah, I'm waiting for a friend."

"He seems a bit late, doesn't he?"

"What's it to you?"

The boy speaking sat down next to him on the bench, shrugging. "Nothing, really. Don't look at me like that—we're not here to mess with you. We just thought we'd help you pass the time a little faster."

One of the other boys snickered and grabbed Kiba's backpack from him, running off behind a cluster of trees. 

"Hey! You jerk, get back here!" Kiba growled, jumping up and chasing after him.

The first boy looked up with a rather bored expression, cupping his hands around his mouth as he yelled. "Hey, come on, that's not what I meant! Give the kid his backpack back!" Even though he said this he didn't seem to take much interest in doing something about it.

Kiba chased the backpack thief into the trees, gaining very quickly on him as he was adept in sports—specifically track—and well-fit physically. He hunted him down like nobody's business, tackling him to the ground in a little less than twenty seconds of running. He struggled with the thief until he slowly wrestled the backpack from his clutches. Then Kiba gave him a punch to the jaw for good measure.

"Remember this next time you try to mess with me, jackass!" He snarled.

The boy looked up at him, a smirk growing slowly on his face. Even as he rubbed his aching jaw, the smirk just got wider. He snickered at the angry, wolfish boy on top of him. "Let me guess, this kind of thing turns you on, huh? You did always strike me as the dominating type."

"What did you say to me?!" Kiba hissed dangerously. "You really want to lose your head that badly?!"

He lunged for the boy but his body suddenly jerked to a halt and was roughly pulled off of the other by claw-like hands. He struggled, trying to look back at what had taken hold of him, but couldn't see clearly. He writhed violently, putting up a fair fight, but there were two pairs of hands opposing him and only one for him to defend with. He watched through red-tinted vision as the boy he'd overtaken before stood up and reached for something out of Kiba's line of sight. The hand pulled back something thin and made of metal, and in his rage it was only until the end of it swung right at Kiba's face that he recognized it.

It was a metal baseball bat.

He heard it crack against the side of his skull, head lolling to the side. His ears rang, his vision swam and he could've sworn he glimpsed the pitch-black of night. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He could hear laughter and voices and tried to focus on them to keep his consciousness from drifting away.

"You dumbass faggot," one of them laughed. He didn't know which one. "Why don't you beg for forgiveness?"

"… For … what …?" Kiba managed to choke out, frightened by how small and far away his voice sounded. Was that blood he tasted in his mouth?

"For being born," the voice said, and then someone was kneeling in front of him. "You were always holding everyone back. In every class the overall average for every student dropped because you couldn't stop getting F's. And now you can't even be natural enough to like girls? You're already an idiot, and now you've decided to come out of the closet. You're nothing but a pain."

A hand tipped Kiba's chin up, but the world was spinning too much for him to see who was talking to him. Which of his classmates was this? Which person hated him so much that they would do this?

"Why don't you just beg for forgiveness? Or better yet, why don't you just die?"

Kiba's vision cleared just long enough for him to see the bat swinging towards him again. He commented to himself on how suddenly everything was going in slow motion. He thought about that English movie called "The Matrix" and remembered that he and a friend were going to watch it on the weekend. He wondered if his life would end like this. He wondered if anyone would make a movie about him, or remember his face, or if anyone would even care.

He didn't feel it hit him again. He merely let everything fade to black, and he floated off into a world where he could convince himself that he was asleep. He figured that when he woke up—if he woke up—he was going to be in a world of hurt. But that was okay. In that black space, at least for the moment, everything was fine. There was nobody but himself and a nice warm emptiness to rest in. His only wish was that it would stay that way …

**(XXX)**

Kiba's wish was not granted. When he awoke to bright lights and the cold feeling of a hospital bed, he also felt the worst, burning soreness that he'd ever felt and his head throbbed with no signs of stopping. He looked around, his surroundings slowly materializing as his eyes got used to the light. He heard voices again and immediately panicked, thinking he was still being attacked, so when a hand reached out to grab his he scratched it harshly with his long fingernails.

The fear went away as he realized whose hand it had been—Hinata's. She looked at him in shock, trembling, holding her now-bleeding hand. Kiba couldn't find the words to explain it to her—he could only count the red blotches he saw wherever his eyes turned to look.

A man in a long white doctor's coat put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Miss Hyuuga. He didn't mean it. He probably thought he was still in danger since he was unconscious until now."

She covered the wound and nodded nervously, looking down at the floor before looking back up at Kiba. "K-Kiba-kun … do you feel okay …?"

"… No. It hurts like bloody hell." Kiba was really starting to get frightened now. It sounded like his voice was barely there. "What happened to me? What the hell happened to me?"

The doctor began to explain. "If my examination yielded correct results … you were assaulted. You were struck four times in the head with a blunt object, presumably a baseball bat. You were also struck in the ribs, arms, and legs with the same object. Four of your ribs were broken although luckily you suffered nothing else but terrible bruises."

"… Where is my backpack? Those bastards …! They took my backpack…! I'm gonna kill them!" Kiba said weakly, moving to get up.

"Kiba-kun … that won't be possible now," Hinata told him.

"Why the hell not?!"

"You've been unconscious for three days," Shino said. Kiba jumped when he heard him—he hadn't noticed the dark boy standing silently behind Hinata until he started talking.

"… Three days …? Three days?! Oh, God … how … how …?" Kiba clutched his head, moaning. Bits and pieces of the assault were starting to come back to him. Oh yeah, they _had_ assaulted him, hadn't they?

"You're lucky to be alive," Hinata said. "You were lucky anyone even found you."

"… Who found me …?"

There was a pause before he heard Shino's voice again. "… I went to go meet you at the park and stood around waiting for a while. You didn't show up and I thought you'd ditched me, so I headed off to leave. Before I was gone I heard you calling for help and saw you dragging yourself from the woods. You were bleeding all over so I called an ambulance."

"… Shino-kun saved your life," Hinata said quietly and the deep impact of those words and Shino's deed sunk into Kiba's confused brain like the Titanic into the cold, dark sea. He lapsed into silence, thinking about how Shino had partially gotten him into this whole mess in the first place.

Then he suddenly remembered something—his mom. What would she say? Would she be ticked off and tell him all the ways he should've been more careful? Or would she hug him and tell him she was glad he was alive? It would probably be the former.

"… Where's Ma?"

"Miss Inuzuka was here a lot earlier," Hinata said. "But she had to go to work so she couldn't stay long."

"… What about you guys? Don't you have school?"

"We … we took the day off today. The principal was understanding about the situation and told us we could have all the time we needed to watch over you. We've been coming here every day."

"… Idiots. You know just how much work you're going to have piled up now. Doing something so stupid because I got into a little scrape … this happens to me all the time, so why are you so worried now?"

"But it's not like all the other times, Kiba-kun! Don't you realize you could've gone into a coma, or worse, died right on the spot? Stop pretending like it's nothing! This is very serious! If your previous fights are scrapes, this is a gash!"

Kiba lapsed into silence again. There was no use in him continuing to argue. Hinata always won arguments that involved logic. It made him mad, but he wasn't going to waste his breath for fear that he might only have a few more left.

The doctor noticed the sudden tension in the room and bowed his head to them. "It seems I am in the way. Inuzuka-kun, please feel better and if you need something don't hesitate to call a nurse. I hope you all have a lovely visit."

He turned and left the room, leaving them all alone in the thick atmosphere. Kiba wouldn't look up from his hands, wondering just how it all happened. He felt like the whole situation was almost unreal. Hinata stared at him with pitying eyes, looking back and locking eyes with Shino. Even through the lenses of the sunglasses, she could see that the sight of their friend this way made his heart hurt too.

She turned back to the bedridden boy. "Kiba … there is something else we needed to tell you, too. This may be the wrong time to say it, but …"

"Oh …? What's that?" Kiba asked, finally looking up again.

"Shino-kun and I … we're dating."

Kiba's mind went blank. Shino and Hinata? When? How? Why? "For how long?"

"About two months." She sat down in the chair by his bedside and took his hand. "I know this is the wrong time to do it, but …" Tears started trickling down her face. She wiped at them with her palm and began sniffling. "We were planning on telling you together after you finished with Shino. You're our best friend—you're _my_ best friend. And we were so afraid we would never get a chance to tell you."

She held his hand up to her face, sobbing. Her pretty little fingers wrapped around his calloused knuckles, somehow holding him closer than he'd ever been held before.

"You didn't wake up for three days! How could we not be afraid you were going to die?"

He stared at her in shock, eyes flicking from her weeping face to Shino's. Not only was he shocked at Hinata's great outpouring of emotion, but … such an unlikely couple they were. And yet didn't they seem to fit together very well? He watched Hinata cry over his hand even more, sobbing out apologies, and the whole time Shino stood there as quietly as ever. His brain suddenly flew far away and something in his head snapped, dropping the emotional load from his shoulders. He threw his head back and started laughing like he'd never laughed before.

"K-Kiba-kun…?" she whispered, confused.

"Ha-ha-ha! This is perfect, just perfect! You two look so great standing by each other's side! In fact, Shino, when I e-mailed you and asked you to come meet me at the park, I was going to tell you that you needed to get with Hinata! This is great! This is fantastic! I feel better already!"

Kiba was lying like the hound he was, but he didn't care. He now knew he never even had a chance with Shino. But strangely enough, he wasn't heartbroken. As long as there wasn't a chance, he could let go of all the feelings, and Shino would never have to know. And now his friends were by his side, caring about him to the point of watching over him and crying for his sake.

He reached up and with his thumb gently wiped a tear away from Hinata's eye. She looked up at him with bright eyes holding hints of a hopeful smile.

"Y-you really think so?" she asked, and he nodded. She lunged forward and pulled him into a hug, weeping again, but this time with more happiness than sadness.

The air around them turned from being filled with despair to elation, an emotion shared by everyone—even the stony-faced Shino, whose face was the only thing that remained stony.

Everything was right in Kiba's world. But somewhere else in his mind, all was not right. The aggression against him had messed up something in his brain and had convinced him of an answer to his argument with himself beforehand, the one that made his feelings for his friend extremely confusing. It had made him take up an answer that was not his own and made him believe that it was so.

He still smiled all the while, content with the thought that his dilemma had finally been solved. "Well then, while we're revealing things, there's probably something I should tell you guys too."

"Oh? What's that, Kiba-kun?" Hinata's mood had lightened considerably and she stared at him in anticipation of a revelation that could make the day even better.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Kiba realized that it might not have been his own voice speaking. And later on, his friends and family realized it too. By that time he would be unable to help himself. This was his first leap into something like insanity.

"I'm gay."

**(XXX)**

After Kiba told several investigators that he believed his attackers were from his school, it was suggested that he transfer into another school to avoid further exposure to danger. That hospital visit would be the last time he saw his best friends for nearly half a year. Before he transferred he stood on a table in the lunchroom and shouted to everyone victoriously that he was a homosexual as his revenge against those who harmed him and those who disagreed with him. He was still alive and he rubbed it in their faces with great relish.

His mother began to notice strange behavior early on after he was released from the hospital, the first of which being the event in the lunchroom. She had remarked to herself about how strange it was for Kiba to do something like that but figured it was just a side of him she hadn't seen yet because she was always working and never around. However she started noticing that if a man approached Kiba or if someone asked him about his sexuality he would immediately bark at them that he was not gay. When this started happening she began to get concerned. Then when she broached the topic with him and he told her that he never denied being a homosexual and obviously didn't remember those previous encounters, she took him to the doctor.

After explaining all that had happened and going to several hospitals to have him examined it was determined that most likely he'd either had suffered some slight brain damage or mental trauma and therefore his memories and emotions were getting mixed up—it was explained to her in a simpler form as "it is as if he has another person inside of him, telling him what to think and feel in certain situations and letting him be in others." She was livid and about ready to murder every student at his previous school just to make sure she wiped out whoever did this to her son. The doctor suggested the more nonviolent approach of getting some kind of counselor or therapist.

The Inuzukas were on a very tight budget so there were a lot of therapists who wouldn't work for their financial situation. But after lamenting to her coworker, Asuma, he told her that he was advertising for a therapist new to the business who was a trusted associate of his. He promised a fair price and a good environment, as well as other kids Kiba could interact with. She literally hugged his feet and cried tears of joy, earning a few weird looks from their other coworkers. After prying her off of his legs he gave her contact information and advised for her to arrange a meeting with the therapist before the sessions started.

All of this is what really happened but Kiba told it a bit differently, as if he had always been gay, and as if he'd never gone to the hospital a second time and heard the diagnosis. In his mind his mother had just put him in therapy because of his sexuality and classified her as being the same as those who'd assaulted him. So, all the while as he talked to Naruto who sat listening intently, Kakashi watched him with the eyes of someone who knows better. He didn't interject and try to correct him—that would be silly. Kiba had to figure it out on his own. Kakashi's only job was to point him in the right direction.

He had a feeling that he was in for one hell of a ride.

**(XXX)**

Note: Okay, so this was one of the hardest chapters I've ever had to write. A confused, mentally incapacitated Kiba is harder to portray than you think, especially a confused, mentally incapacitated, possibly gay but not girly Kiba. In this situation, keeping him masculine and his thoughts not-cheesy is just … it's awful how much I ACTUALLY had to pay attention to it. Anyway, sometime soon I'm going to throw the Akatsuki in here, and I want everyone's opinion on something—should I include their histories and how they came to be a group (from my perspective of course *sweat drop*) in this series, or create a separate sequel that will document it separately? Let me know what you think, please, because I really love the Akatsuki and want to do justice to them!


	5. Drama Queen

**Disclaimer: I own none of Naruto. However it is a wonderful anime and manga and the inspiration for this piece of fiction, so hurry up and buy it and get inspired! Do it now—I'll wait. Needless to say this is a nonprofit project done only for fun and writing critique. Therefore, now that I've got Masashi credited and off my back, we can begin!**

Please read the introduction. I'm sorry about so many ranting introductions but they help me to explain some things to you that I believe should be mentioned, and unfortunately it will probably become a usual thing in this project.

INTRODUCTION: **Before we start anything, please read all the way through to the end of the chapter! There are some twists that will get you, so just bear with it if you dislike it at first.** Ah, so we've covered Naruto and Kiba so far. An interesting pair, they are. So now that we have the first difficult character out of the way, we move on to the second one—Shikamaru! Shika and I share things like laziness, the same birth month, and a fairly comfortable level of intelligence (*scribbles in manga and rewrites his IQ*[Chuunin Exams. Read the battle between Shikamaru and Temari again and you'll know where it is that I'm talking about]). However we have different branches of some of these things. Not only am I not as strategic and cunning, but I am also not as seemingly chilly-hearted and hating of troublesome things as he is. Therefore he might be even harder to portray than Kiba was. But no matter! I have a good idea for a first start therefore I shall use it like none other hath been used before (this I can verify. I can't verify that it will be _good_, but I can verify it will be used like none other)! So sit back, relax, and enjoy what I have to offer!

**(XXX)**

Shikamaru had managed to make it out of the first session of therapy without having to reveal anything too personal. He was torn between loving and hating his session mate, Naruto, who could be extremely annoying but when they'd been called upon to "come and confess" had seen Shikamaru's discomfort and made a whole bunch of random noise about how they should stop talking and eat. Then Kiba had joined in immediately, raving about how he hadn't eaten in hours. The easy-going Kakashi, their therapist, didn't contest it and instead said something like "Well … I _would_ like some hot chocolate …" The rest of the session time was filled with eating and random chatter, which was a lot less troublesome than having to explain his situation to two dingbats and the nut-job in charge.

After Asuma graciously—or as the older said he should consider the deed as—dropped Shikamaru off at his apartment, he went to the door and turned the knob, not expecting it to be open, yet finding it to be unlocked. That either meant his roommate was home for once or some idiot decided there was something worth stealing in the God-forsaken little place.

He dropped his backpack on the couch, hopping over the back of it to plop down on the homely seat cushions. It wasn't the comfiest sofa in the world and if you looked closely at it, you could see the food stains Shikamaru had tried so desperately to get out of them. Even so they affectionately called it the "Blue Baka," named for its striking blue color and for all the times they called it various obscene names when poked by something or when the cushions slid out from underneath them when they leaned back.

He yawned and yelled out across the room, "Hey Chouji, you home?"

The apartment was small—it had a living room/kitchen/dining room out in the bigger area and one bedroom (they alternated between sleeping on the floor with a bunch of blankets and pillows and sleeping in the bed which honestly wasn't much different)—so his voice carried through quite easily. If Chouji were home he could easily hear it. Shikamaru listened closely for a few moments until he heard the shuffling of large feet and saw the bedroom door open.

Standing in the doorway was Chouji, a colossal boy—both in height and width—with long, unkempt brown hair, pudgy, round cheeks, and nice dark eyes that Shikamaru barely ever saw completely thanks to the aforementioned cheeks. He scratched his head, a half-eaten meat-skewer hanging from his lips.

"Don't tell me you were eating in the bed again …" Shikamaru groaned.

"No! I was eating on the floor next to the bed," Chouji said defensively, although it was with a tired, muffled drawl—a sign that he'd probably been trying to nap since he got home, which meant that he _had_ been eating in bed. "By the way, now that you're home, you need to hurry up and help me with my history homework."

Shikamaru sighed inwardly but decided to forgive it on just this one occasion, since now that he looked more closely, Chouji looked absolutely exhausted.

"Alright …" He moved to pick up his backpack again, but before completing the action allowed his eyes to flicker over towards him. "You look like death walking. What happened? You have a fight with Ino?"

Shikamaru moved over as Chouji plopped down next to him, removing the meat skewer from his mouth so he could talk properly. "I wish. It was my dad. I'd rather face Ino's wrath than have to deal with him right now."

Shikamaru looked at him in surprise and with a touch of nervousness. "Your dad? How the hell …?"

"He got our phone number from my boss and found our address through that."

"Found our address, huh …?"

"Yeah … and the worst part is he keeps saying things like 'I'm sorry, I promise I'll accept this one thing, so please come home.' It's really hard to believe him after the way he reacted the first time I told him about Ino, though." Chouji bit off another piece of meat.

"Crap … that means that if he tells Mom where we live, I'll be in it up to my neck too," Shikamaru groaned, leaning back against the couch. The cushion slipped from under him and he flailed a little, swearing at it.

Their dads were both coworkers and had been buddy-buddy for a long time, although the way Shikamaru and Chouji met was quite different. They'd met while looking for vacant apartments, and deciding to forego the possibility that one or the other was a pervert or a serial killer, they agreed on the spot to split the rent for one apartment together. Later on when they learned each other's last names they finally started pointing fingers incredulously saying things like "You're that guy's son!" and after finding out they also went to the same school, "I can't believe we go to the same school and we haven't even seen each other!" Now they both lived a less than luxurious lifestyle together, helping each other to evade quarrelsome relatives, friends, and awful problems. They could sympathize with each other since they were both there for similar reasons.

As for Akimichi Chouji, he was born into a family that was widely respected but at the same time discriminated against because of one long-standing factor—every Akimichi family member was not only awkwardly tall, but extremely overweight. This created a lot of chatter when their backs were turned and a difficult situation for a young child trying to make his way in a kid's world. He was made fun of constantly during his time in school and suffered immensely due to all the negative feelings towards him. This changed in middle school when he met a busty blonde named Yamanaka Ino and through befriending her not only ratcheted himself up several notches on the popularity scale, but also in his freshman year by some sort of miracle gained her as his girlfriend. After this happened he was like a god to all the other students and needless to say very happy with his new life.

It would not last. Their relationship went on for about a year fueled only by pure love and innocence before romance and hormones finally made an appearance and the two young lovers decided to take "the next step." Although it was never confirmed whether or not they actually had sexual relations, rumors started cropping up that were shameful to the family, and Chouji's appalled father told him he could either say goodbye to his girlfriend or start looking for a new place to live. Chouji chose the latter and that was how he'd ended up rooming with a total stranger.

Shikamaru had met Ino before since Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka senior were all not only friends but drinking buddies. Yamanaka Inoichi, Ino's father, was also one of his father Shikaku's business partners so whenever he came over to work Shikamaru would slip a couple of words in with him while Shikaku was in the bathroom or going to get something. His talks with Inoichi were how he learned some things about Ino and eventually met her. She seemed nice enough, and he could kind of see why Chouji would be into her just from looks. However she did have a reputation for having a horrible temper and he could always tell when it was acting up—every day Chouji would sneak out to Ino's house at night and they'd do whatever they did while they were together … except for when Ino was in a foul mood or they'd just had a fight. Those were times when Chouji was too scared to visit her without witnesses around.

Shikamaru wasn't interested in dating and girls (or boys for that matter), so how he ended up in a dingy little apartment was another thing entirely. He looked up at the ceiling which was about the only thing in their home in truly excellent shape.

_Home, huh …?_

"… You ever wonder when it all fell apart?"

"… Yeah. I wonder a lot," Chouji responded after a while, turning his gaze towards the ceiling as well.

"Ever think … that maybe if you could pinpoint where everything started going downhill …"

"… That maybe you could go back and change it?"

"… Yeah."

"… Do you ever think … that maybe our parents were right?" Chouji looked at Shikamaru, for once not having food in his mouth—a definite sign that he'd become very serious.

Shikamaru moved his head down to look at the wall. He didn't want to look in the face the one person he'd come to consider as his best friend when he said his next words.

"… They've always been right, Chouji. Mom was right to throw me out, and your dad was right to throw you out." He then fixed him with a look that was harder than rock. "Money, power, and status are the be-all end-all. Our families gave those things to us, and we threw them away. We're disgraceful—to them, at least."

Chouji just looked at him with an astounded expression, then turned and faced the wall, his face set and the gears in his head turning. "It must have been harder for you … because you've always been so smart, you know?"

Shikamaru looked away, a pained look washing over his face. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows before opening them again, looking down at his own slender fingers.

"It's like Mom said … I could've done so much. 'If only you'd work harder. Maybe then you could get into a great college, and get a job that would make me proud.'" He sat back again, leaning his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes again. "I lost my right to make my mother proud … and I've always wondered what Dad thought. Maybe he secretly supports me. Or maybe I've lost him too."

Shikamaru sighed, trying to expel all the stress, negative feelings, and responsibility. "Just what am I working for?" he muttered to himself.

"Shikamaru …"

"… To die, probably. I've got to keep going until the world decides it's time to wipe me out."

"That's not true. I'm sure you've got plenty of opportunities you're just not seeing yet."

"It's different for you, Chouji. You're fighting for the person your heart belongs to. While it's hard, it makes for a happy existence. I'm fighting for money to keep me clothed and warm and alive for one more day … but I'm still trying to find my reason to live."

Chouji couldn't find any words to say, although he obviously wished he could. He realized that for the first time since he'd known Shikamaru that the sharp-browed boy was opening up and exposing a part he hid better than any master thief could hide a jewel and there was nothing he could say to try and reconcile that exposed, wounded place. This Shikamaru didn't bother to conceal that he felt everyone was against him and accepted it, like a fate predetermined, that his efforts to go against them would be the death of him.

But before Chouji could elaborate on the subject in his mind, the awkward atmosphere was brushed away and he saw Shikamaru smile out of the corner of his eye, pulling his history textbook out of his backpack. "Though I guess you could say I live to prove wrong the woman who is the symbol of my life-long terror and repression. She said I wouldn't last a day but here I am, nearly five months later, still going strong … that's enough for me."

It was amazing just how quickly Shikamaru could cheer himself up sometimes and convince himself that he was fulfilled and things were alright, even if it wasn't the truth. In two seconds flat the mood had been turned right side-up once more.

"Sorry for getting all dramatic on you. I don't have it that rough so I shouldn't complain. You've got your own problems to worry about." He opened the textbook and started turning the pages. "Speaking of, you still need help with that history homework?"

**(XXX)**

Shikamaru had reflected upon _that day_ at least a thousand times, realizing that it had truly been the day when everything fell apart. No longer was he wondering when or how, but _why_. He wanted to know just what it all meant.

He'd never been more scared in his life than when he entered the juvenile detention center. He had to withstand thirty days and thirty nights of being held captive in that awful place before he was bailed out. He figured that dear old Mum wasn't going to stand for having her reputation ruined because her child was in jail and paid whatever price was asked so that he could get out.

But the part where he got out wasn't important—it was what had been inside the detention center. There he saw an abysmal darkness in children he hadn't seen before, and was rendered dumbstruck with the realization that if he was there, he was_ one of them_. While he realized not all detention centers were bad he cursed God, humanity, and everything in between for allowing him to end up in what seemed like the worst one. The facilities were terrible and the building not up to code. For every night that he spent in that hell-hole a line was carved into one of his arms with a blade—it was how he convinced himself he wasn't either dreaming or already dead. That blade didn't just hurt him, either—it was there to defend him from the others, should they decide to make him their next victim. He remarked upon the irony of it to himself a million times in his head.

But while he remembered a lot about what happened while he was in captivity he recalled nothing but blackness leading up to the event which had landed him there—he could also remember absolutely nothing about what the outside world was like until he was free once more. Once when his parents came to visit he could barely remember who they were. People would certainly be shocked if they knew that in his mind none of it was of importance anymore—the fateful few minutes that really mattered replayed themselves over and over of their own accord every night when he went to bed, and to his dismay, the picture was crystal clear.

Bits and pieces of it would pop into his head during the day, haunting him while he was at school or at work. It would come at night as well, but never all at once. The memories always jumped back and forth like a skipping CD stuck on one track.

"_This is what brothers do," Eiji said to Shikamaru, looking at him with a deranged expression he hadn't fully recognized until then. It now filled him with a rising dread and nearly paralyzed him with fear. He didn't know his friend anymore. The police were trying to pull Eiji away as he thrashed against their grip—they tried to pull away all of the kids who suddenly began congregating around Shikamaru like moths drawn to a flame. In this case it was more like he was the moth and the fire was heading straight towards him. "We're all brothers, Shikamaru. You know?"_

Get away from me. I don't want to be brothers anymore.

"… _Look at us," Shikamaru said. "We're not brothers. We're a _gang_. If you try to compare this to brotherhood we're no better than those idiots who ride motorcycles and shoot whoever they feel they have the right to."_

"_Shikamaru…?" Eiji asked, so shocked by this that the police were finally able to get a good hold on him and start pulling him away. He became angry and crazed again, shouting at Shikamaru. "This is all your fault, isn't it?! You set us up, didn't you?! You labeled our brotherhood negatively all on your own and tried to drag it down! You're just like the rest! You're jealous, you're all jealous! Every single one of you! _Let me go!_"_

_He screamed and writhed to no avail, being shoved into the back of one of the police cars. Shikamaru was much more compliant with his fate and walked solemnly with the officers, being led to his designated car. He could see some officers glancing at him and then at each other in surprise at his cooperation, but he guessed it was only natural—they were probably expecting more of a fight from him, seeing as how he was able to fend off the six attackers all on his own for about a total of five minutes until those who considered themselves his "brothers" jumped in and saved him. Shikamaru admitted this last part begrudgingly. He didn't feel saved._

Because of them, how they overreacted, and how I just managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time … aren't I just in more trouble now?

_As they neared the police car, he looked towards the ambulance that had arrived not moments ago, trying to catch a glimpse of something that might be able to leave him hopeful. Out of the six who attacked, five escaped—with wounds worth licking, no doubt—but one was left behind. One was put on a stretcher and carried over to the ambulance. He hadn't been able to see what had happened to him because once the others had escaped Eiji's gang had surrounded him like vultures over a rotting carcass._

_The sight didn't fail to disappoint him. His heart and his stomach switched places and he thought he was going to be sick. He had to turn away to escape that crimson color splashed so perfectly across white hospital sheets and bandages._

God, if you're there … why? What did he do to deserve this? What did _I_ do to deserve this?

_Shikamaru thought to himself about just how selfish this thought must've been. Even in that moment he was only thinking about what he was going to have to go through, instead of the poor soul that had been left behind by the rest of the living._

_A mangled skull with a missing eye and teeth scattered about his chest, which wasn't even really a chest because the ribs were crushed in, deflating the flesh, muscle, and lungs beneath. You couldn't even tell who he used to be. Shikamaru wondered if they would ever find out who the body belonged to. The only surviving eye stared out into the world and his jaw stayed agape as if there was something left he needed to say, or perhaps someone left he needed to curse._

_Shikamaru was sure it was the latter. As he dropped to his knees in front of the door of the police car, vomiting on the ground, he knew that this horrible incident would only be the beginning. He wanted to blame the ghost of the deceased child who he could've sworn stood over him, shaking his head with disappointment, but he knew that it was his fault and that he deserved it. He knew just how much he deserved the worst for letting him be killed. He looked up at the police officers who had been holding him. One of them looked at him pityingly—the other's expression clearly said "this is part of your payment."_

_All his life, Shikamaru had been afraid of standing up against or confronting everyone. He figured it would be less troublesome to just others what they want and go on with his life. But for the first time in his short fifteen years, he didn't care. His eyes locked with those stern, hateful ones, his expression sharp enough to cut through steel and with the power of a man who knows that a part of him—if not all of him—is about to die._

You should thank me—I stopped here and threw up so I wouldn't have to get your car dirty.

_The officer tried to feign like he was unimpressed, but Shikamaru knew just how deeply it had struck into his core and aggravated the hell out of him. So even as he was violently shoved into the backseat he clung to this one last thing that he could be proud of in some sick and twisted way. He wondered if he'd ever make it out alive to tell his friends. He also recognized just how cowardly he was when the car began to pull away._

_He desperately wished things could just go back to the way they were before. Boring schoolwork, a nagging mom, an easy-going dad and his buddies who treated him like family. He never realized just how much he'd taken it for granted until it was too late. He caught a glimpse of the ambulance doors closing shut and he pressed his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes. He slid down the window, letting his head rest on the door._

"_I'm sorry …" he said, praying that the ghost would hear him. He didn't have to respond or help—all he had to do was hear. Tears slid down his cheeks as he whispered over and over again, "Forgive me."_

_He never knew that every day of his life he would say these words to the deceased._

Shikamaru jolted awake, covered in a cold sweat. He sat up and looked around, afraid that he might have awoken to still be in that horrid scene. To his immense relief he was merely in the bedroom, the alarm clock beside his bed slowly ticking away, as if mocking his life, which passed by even more slowly. He sighed and stood up, stumbling on his way to the light switch. He flicked the lights on and scratched the back of his neck, walking over to the small mirror that hung over a lone bureau—the only other possession in the room besides the mirror, bed, and the clock. That accursed clock …

Shikamaru and Chouji shared the bureau—each had two drawers to themselves, meaning they didn't have to get two bureaus which was less costly and made it so that everything could just stay in one place. He opened his drawers and pulled out some clothes, not bothering to try and go back to sleep for fear of revisiting his nightmares. He pulled everything on quickly—for today he'd picked a long-sleeved gray jacket, a white T-shirt, and green camouflage pants. He didn't want to waste any time in getting dressed because for all that he was willing to tell Chouji, the one thing he hadn't told him about were the marks on his arms. He had no clue that they were there, and Shikamaru had made sure to never give him a chance to accidentally find out. The days of causing his own self harm were long gone, but he'd seen one too many people freak out and try to put him in a mental hospital. He couldn't argue with them that, mentally, something was wrong with him. But he assumed that he'd always been a little off, and either way he hadn't put a blade to his skin since the last day in the detention center floated away. He suddenly recalled the time Asuma made him show the scars to his soon-to-be therapist a while back, and in return, Kakashi showed him even older scars, simply smiling without saying a word.

He pulled himself from his thoughts and returned to the real world, looking in the mirror. He grimaced, running a finger across the slight bags under his eyes, thinking to himself that he might have to resort to covering them up with makeup so the teachers wouldn't get in his business. Since he got out of the detention center everyone had been hell-bent on "helping" him. He assumed that meant they wanted the credit for "putting him on the right path." It made him sick, and he often wondered if he was really the one with problems compared to them. He sighed and rubbed his temples, never taking his eyes off himself for one second, as if he couldn't trust his own reflection.

_Well, after all, this is the red mark that has been bestowed upon my forehead._

His hands stilled and he closed his eyes again, trusting his mirror image just this once.

_Forgive me. If this is what is needed for you to be at peace, so be it. Just promise me that in the end, this will earn my forgiveness._

He jumped as he felt something brush his shoulder and looked back, trying to find the source of it. He saw nothing at all. Most people would brush it off as just the wind—other hopeful enthusiasts would take it as a sign that things would be alright. But Shikamaru was a smart boy, and he knew it was neither. On the day that it had all fallen apart, all he asked was that his cries for forgiveness be heard. It was one simple request, and the only one he was allowed to make. The request had been granted. He had been heard. Nothing more, nothing less.

For the moment, Shikamaru could live with that.

**(XXX)**

Shikamaru tapped his foot impatiently, shifting his weight back and forth as he waited for Asuma to answer the door—at least, he hoped to God that Asuma was home. It was getting on towards dark and he didn't want to be stuck fighting off weirdoes in the park. He looked at his watch nervously wondering if somehow he wasn't supposed to be home yet.

He rang the doorbell again and stared at the door for a little while longer before he sighed and his shoulders slumped. If he hurried, he might be able to catch a friend who would let him sleep over. There was a huge emphasis on the "might." Since getting out of the detention center a lot of his old friends had started avoiding him, which meant he might have tough luck trying to get a place to stay for the night. He turned and got ready to head off into the night when he heard feet scuffling just beyond the door. He faced it again and as it opened a warm breeze and the smell of cookies baking greeted him. There was a woman with long, dark hair and striking red eyes standing in the doorway. He'd never seen her before and for a fraction of a second wondered if he had the wrong house.

"What can I do for you?" She asked, looking him over, obviously confused about his appearance.

"Sorry to bother you. Is Asuma-sensei at home right now?" He asked.

"May I ask what your name is?" She asked with a bit of a wary tone.

"Shikamaru." He replied, raising an eyebrow at the small amount of cautiousness her face showed.

The slight tension in her expression completely melted away at hearing the name and she smiled widely, stepping aside, gesturing for him to come in. "You just missed him—he went out to go pick up a few things. He'll be right back—go ahead and make yourself at home."

"Thanks," Shikamaru said, walking in. He admired the cozy feel of the house, noting that there was a couch and a couple of chairs in front of a beautiful fireplace. He plopped down into one of the chairs and set his backpack down on the floor beside it, reclining backwards into the soft fabric.

The woman chuckled. "You really do take the words 'make yourself at home' to heart, don't you?"

He smiled a little. "Of course."

"Well, I expected no less. After all Asuma has told me a lot about you."

"Oh, is that so? It's probably all complaints like 'he's such a lazy bum' or 'how does he keep beating me at Go?'"

"Something like that."

"And who are you?"

"Forgive me for not introducing myself—I am Kurenai, Asuma's fiancée."

"Ah … he did say something several times about having a girlfriend, didn't he…?"

Shikamaru stared into space, trying to remember what Asuma had said about her. He couldn't really bring any words to mind, but he remembered sharing with him small cakes and black tea. He thought of the cakes and the touches put on it that could only come from a woman's hand. He looked at Kurenai with a deeper sense of recognition. "… You baked the cakes."

She nodded. "I baked the cakes."

"Huh." Shikamaru looked away again. "They were very good."

"Thank you."

"How come I don't see you more often?"

"I'm usually busy. I'm a professor at the college near your high school, so I have a lot of work to do for that. And while we're asking those kinds of questions, how do you know Asuma? He says you're one of his students, but he teaches college kids, and furthermore he teaches at night and works in an office by day. You have school during the day, right?"

He could tell Kurenai's tone was getting wary again, and he looked her in the face, fighting the quizzical look his face wanted to produce as a result of her behavior. "Yeah. I actually met him completely by accident."

"By accident? How so?"

Shikamaru closed his eyes and looked back into the past, flipping through memories as if he were searching for the right page in a book. Eventually he zoned in on the one he was looking for and he read it out loud to himself and to Kurenai.

_He tapped his feet to the music coming out of his headphones, thankful that they blocked all the other noise in the crazy subway. He leaned against a post, waiting for the train to come. He could see the lights coming from the tunnel, promising that his ride would arrive soon. Luckily he was not disappointed. The train slowly screeched to a halt and the doors opened, letting some of the passengers off. He waited until the crowd had thinned enough that he could get through the doors without running into the other passengers and stepped into the small car, looking around for a seat. He spied one just to the left of a man who was packing away something that had been covering the spot. Shikamaru took advantage of the sudden opening and slid over, lowering himself onto the cold seat. He couldn't hear anything through his headphones but it didn't matter much anyway—nobody was talking to him and there wasn't anything he took enough of an interest in to talk about._

_Or so he thought. After happening to glance to the side at the object the man was packing away in a small bag Shikamaru saw that it looked like a board game. He wondered what some old guy on a subway train was doing pulling out a board game. So with his usual simple and direct manner, he pulled his headphones off of his ears, letting them rest on his shoulders, and asked, "What's that?" as he pointed to the board._

"_Huh?" The man was taken by surprise at the sudden question but quickly smiled. "Oh, this is a Go board. I just bought all the fixings for the game today—my old stuff got lost."_

"_Go, huh …" Shikamaru said. "I've heard of it, but never played it."_

"_Never played Go?" the man asked incredulously. He thought to himself for a second. "How much time do you have?"_

_Shikamaru shrugged. "I still have a ways to go after getting on this train."_

"_Then I'll teach you how to play," the man told him, pulling the board back out again. "I'll half to borrow part of your lap though—there's no room to do this otherwise."_

"_Okay." Shikamaru balanced one end of the board on his lap and the man did the same with the other._

"_Now it's imperative that you stay really still so the board doesn't shake and the pieces stay put."_

"_You really don't know me …"_

"_Ah, that's right, I don't, do I?"_

_Shikamaru gave him a blank look, and the man laughed in response._

"_I'm Asuma. What's your name?"_

"_Shikamaru. Do you always do this kind of thing with people on the train?"_

"_Nah. Usually it's in the park or somewhere with more room."_

"_So you play games with strangers on a regular basis, then …"_

"_You make it sound like there's something wrong with it."_

"_Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"_

"_Sure, plenty of times. But friends are strangers before they're friends."_

_The whole ride home Shikamaru played Go with Asuma. He was a surprisingly quick learner and demonstrated this by swiftly and completely destroying his teacher after the first couple of games. Asuma was appalled, but he was a gracious enough loser to remark on it positively before Shikamaru got off the train and left. When Shikamaru did go, as he waved goodbye Asuma said to him, "I hope you had fun today. Maybe sometime soon we can play together again."_

_Shikamaru nodded at him, giving him a small smile. "Sounds cool to me."_

"_Bye."_

"_Later."_

_He stepped out of the train and began the trek out of the station and down the last few streets towards home. He wondered about Asuma and about Go. After getting lost in thought for a few minutes he decided that he'd go to the library and get an instructional book on the game so he could study it … you know, just in case he had the chance to challenge Asuma again._

_He veered off-course and headed for the library._

"The next day I rode the train he was there again. The same goes for the next day and the next, and so on. We ended up talking a lot while we played so that was how we got to know each other. After a while we exchanged phone numbers and started having coffee together every couple of days, and he just … naturally became something like a mentor to me."

"Wow," Kurenai said in response to his tale. "I can't believe you easily trusted such a stranger …"

"Well, Asuma-sensei was right," Shikamaru said with a small grin. "Friends are strangers before they're friends. Besides, by that time I'd grown out of my 'cute phase,' so even if he had been an old pervert he would've been eyeing someone else entirely."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Kurenai chuckled. "You are a very handsome young man."

The door swung wide open and Asuma hurried in and dropped a bunch of grocery bags on the table then ran over and dove for Shikamaru. "Steal my woman, will you?!"

"Asuma-sensei—ack!"

Shikamaru's greeting was cut off short when Asuma pulled him into a head lock and dragged him out of the chair, pulling him around in circles by his head before pinning him to the ground. "Say uncle, you fiend, before I tear all the limbs from your body!"

"You're so strange, Asuma," Kurenai said as she went to close the door he'd left open. "Give the kid a break. You look like you're trying to molest him."

"Call child services, please," Shikamaru begged. "I'm sure they'd believe me if I told them he was my abusive grandfather."

"I don't look that old!" Asuma said indignantly, tousling Shikamaru's hair with a rather gentle hand. He stood up and offered the boy a hand. "Alright, you win. The time for revenge has passed. Just don't be trying to charm my wife again anytime soon."

"With pleasure," Shikamaru agreed as he took Asuma's hand, using his help to stand.

"Well now that we're all together, why don't I start some tea?" Kurenai said with a smile.

"Sounds lovely," Asuma said, swooning at her smile. He turned to Shikamaru once she was out of earshot and said, "Ain't she a babe?"

Shikamaru smiled widely, seeing past the goofy grin his sensei wore, able to view the true pride and happiness in his eyes. "Yeah."

Asuma nodded at him, knowing that Shikamaru fully understood. They didn't have to explain much to each other and could tell what the other meant or was thinking just by a tilt of the head or the wiggle of a brow. Shikamaru reflected on this, wondering if it was just a fellowship found commonly between two intelligent people. Or maybe it was just a thing with guys in general. Women always seemed to want to know every little detail and hear it from your mouth directly and whatever you said could be used against you or twisted into something melodramatic. He mumbled something about "troublesome women" and Asuma raised an eyebrow at that, but his student waved it away.

The boy stood there for a while, the air—for him at least—gradually becoming strained and awkward. Asuma noticed the discomfort in him and waited patiently for the unspoken words he could hear just on the tip of Shikamaru's tongue. By looking at him Asuma was almost certain that they'd be scathing, witty, direct, and brutal, unlike the silver-tongued devils he dealt with at work who were lacking in all of those areas except brutality.

Unfortunately those words would not so easily be said. After a long gaping silence, with a strangled voice the teen said, "You still haven't beaten me once at Go." Immediately after saying that he swallowed and made a show of clearing his throat as he grumbled something like "maybe I'm catching a cold." Asuma just chuckled and shook his head, irritated for the umpteenth time at all the beating around the bush Shikamaru did before becoming painfully direct. But he also was awed at it, and wondered if perhaps he should call it beautiful, and if perhaps Kurenai would bear him a child that was just as interesting of a work. For one moment or two he reminisced about how not a couple years ago he never would've been excited to see what kind of child he might raise. But he pushed that thought out of his mind to realize that he'd been silent for a while and Shikamaru was staring at him with the look of a trapped animal. He swore inwardly, noting that whatever was wrong had to be serious.

"Then this time I'll definitely beat you," Asuma said flatly, not bothering to hide that he wasn't intending on concentrating on the game, but planned instead to dig into his conscience yet another time. In return, Shikamaru didn't bother to try and hide his nauseas complexion.

Asuma pulled the Go game off the top shelf of a bookcase a little ways to the side of the fireplace, blowing the dust off of it. He presented it to Shikamaru, noticing that his eyes were following its every motion, staring hard.

"What?" Asuma asked.

That startled Shikamaru out of his reverie. He looked up at him, then down to at the board, then back up to him, his eyes seemingly drawn towards the game, even though there didn't seem to be anything special about it. Little would anyone know of the memories between a teacher and student residing in the game pieces. "… It had dust on it."

"What about it?"

"… How long was it since you last played?"

"… Since a month ago."

Shikamaru swallowed hard. That's right … the night that had changed his life so completely was exactly a month ago. He'd been walking home from Asuma's house that night hadn't he?

"… Only a month, eh …?"

He was talking more to himself now. It seemed so unreal that it only took a month for him to be released into the free world. It felt like it'd taken so much longer.

"Well, there was no one with enough time on their hands to play a game with me during the time you were gone," Asuma said as he pulled over an end table and started setting up the board. "You know all those stiff-necked corporate officials and their shriveled up, underused sense of fun."

Shikamaru was silent as he watched Asuma's hands skillfully move across the board, placing the pieces in their usual position until it was all perfectly arranged. But staring at it now, Shikamaru could only see how things used to be when everything was somewhat alright, before it all came to this and he had to go two miles on foot to get to the house of someone who was still technically a stranger. Had his parents even met Asuma? What would they say? Would they even care?

"Well, you go first," Asuma said as he pulled up a chair and sat down, staring at him from across the table. "Dazzle me with that ingenuity of yours."

Pineapple-shaped hair barely twitched in the air as he swiftly and smoothly grabbed a chair of his own, fixing his glazed eyes on what he could no longer see as anything but a map of the past. What better mechanism to use to begin explaining everything in his heart than a lesson plan already laid out in front of him? He sat still, leaned over on his elbows, contemplating how to start. With these kinds of matters it was best to make it quick like a band-aid.

"… Asuma-sensei …" He hesitantly reached out and picked up the first piece, in his mind grasping a representation of himself between his fingers. He sighed inwardly and carefully moved it to the appropriate square that was the starting point of his tale. "I'm not going to have much time to play these games anymore."

Asuma stared at the move Shikamaru had made, seeing how his hand faltered as he made it, fearing the worst. His eyes had caught a disturbing sight hidden by baggy sleeves—a sure promise that this was not something that could merely be talked out over a round of Go. He wondered what he would have to do, his mind already working on who he would have to look for, the questions he would have to ask specialists, and how he could trick Shikamaru into getting wrapped up in all of it if need be. He knew none of it would be easy.

However, for now he focused his mind on responding to his student's comment, a figurative pick and shovel readied in his hands as he prepared to excavate whatever he could. The rest would have to wait until later when he figured something else out.

"… Do you need a place to stay?"

"…Just for a couple of nights. I'd be happy to help out, you know? It's been a while since we talked last, and now you have Kurenai here and … she might like some help around the house, right?"

"Heh, relax. You can stay here as long as you need to."

"I'll be out of your hair before you know it. All I need is a place to crash for a night, you know?"

He sounded so humble it was almost painful. Asuma picked up his piece and made his move, closing in on Shikamaru with his richly-colored eyes. As he pulled his lighter from his pocket, grabbed a cigarette from a carton in his breast pocket, and lit it casually, he took a long drag and slowly blew out the smoke. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

"Now … do you mind telling me why?"

**(XXX)**

"Piss off, old man!" Shikamaru said, flipping Asuma the bird for what felt like the third time that week. His sensei had come to check up on him a lot lately, bringing treats from Kurenai, helping him with homework, and had even dragged him to some therapist who looked like he belonged in a psycho ward himself. What was so bad about that, apart from the last part? Shikamaru let him know: "You're like a damn mother, smothering me!"

Of course he didn't mean it—he'd just been so overworked and tired lately. Even though lately Chouji had given up school to try and find a better job so Shikamaru would have time for his academic work, the tubby boy ended up getting laid off because of lack of skill. Needless to say it was a very dishonorable "discharge." That meant that until he found a new job Shikamaru's work had to foot the bill. He'd taken a weekend shift at his job so that meant what most teenagers considered two blissful days of sleep and merriment for him had been fried, basted, and eaten by a pack of hungry wolves.

"Now, now, princess, don't get your panties in a bunch," Asuma said with a bit of irritation himself. "I'm just saying that you should take some time off and go to some of the sessions. You've met Kakashi already and you didn't disapprove much. Why not give it a chance? You look miserable. Certainly at the very least you could get some of this stuff out in the open."

"It's already thrown everywhere out in the open. I could barely get an apartment because of my rep as a 'juvenile,'" Shikamaru grouched. "And besides, I don't have time. Since Chouji got fired I'm taking care of everything. Time is something I don't have to spare."

"Then I'll pay full price for you."

"You know I don't take charity crap."

"What's this I hear about paying and favors?" Chouji said, suddenly poking his head into the apartment. He walked in carrying bags of food. Apparently he'd done the grocery shopping and Shikamaru was astounded that he hadn't eaten it all on his way home. "Don't tell me you're into that kind of business, Shikamaru."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Shikamaru said, narrowing his eyes at him.

"You know. Getting freaky with it. Working hard for the money." Chouji raised his eyebrows and Shikamaru bopped him on the head, groaning at his perverted little jokes.

"With that geezer? No way."

"You sure? There were some rumors there for a while that you swing both ways."

"Trust me, right now the only sexuality I have time to choose to be right now is asexuality."

"Well say goodbye to living as an amoeba, 'cause I got big news that will free you right up!"

"News?"

"Guess who I saw at the grocery store."

"Who?"

"Haruno Sakura. She was one of the people bagging up the stuff and some coworker of hers copped a feel right in front of everyone. Apparently it wasn't the first time this happened because she just up and quit like that, yelling at him and beating the crap out of him."

"Sounds just like her …"

"But get this—the manager was an old friend of my dad's a long time back. He had to take over for Sakura for a few minutes since she just walked out and there was still a line, and when I went through to the register he recognized me and asked me if I'd be willing to take a temporary position. And let me tell you, the pay ain't too bad at all if I work all day. He said he's gonna give me a call and we'll work something out."

"Which leaves you with more time to go to that session," Asuma cut in, giving Shikamaru a pointed look. The boy sighed and scratched his head, seeing that he was out of excuses and good reasons to say no to Asuma's prodding.

"Whatever," he said, rubbing his temples.

Chouji blinked at them in confusion and pulled out a bag of chips from the grocery bags, ripping it open before digging in. "What'd I miss?"

Shikamaru chuckled and shook his head, looking at the bag of chips in his roommate's hands that would surely be gone within a few minutes. _Poor kid,_ he thought. _He abstained as long as he could._ He reached in the bag and grabbed a chip for himself, taking a bite. Asuma did the same and they both swallowed and spoke in unison. "You probably don't want to know."

**(XXX)**

"Hey, lazy-ass, what're you spacing out for?"

Kiba's rough voice awoke Shikamaru from his slumber. His eyes darted around a little bit, taking in the surroundings as he tried to remember where he was. He was lying flat on his back on one of the rolling, grassy hills and it nearly took a bug up the nose for him to remember that he was outside and that they were at the park. Kakashi had wanted to change the venue for the second session to get them more "relaxed," although from the look of things Kakashi was more concerned with eyeing the women who came by than having a session, so the three of them decided to go their own ways and try to find amusement. As he felt the warmth of the sun on his skin he also remembered that this little field trip had only been a good idea because what had been a very hard winter was over and it was finally springtime. He could barely believe it. Time went by so slowly in his world.

Before Shikamaru had fallen asleep, Kiba was going off with Naruto to go walk down a trail. Now the wolfish teen was leaning over his face with his arms crossed, his head shielding Shikamaru's eyes from the sun. The lazy boy blinked the sleep away from his vision. He concentrated on the person leaning over him, wondering if Naruto had left him to take a leak.

"Excuse me?" he drawled sleepily.

"I'm bored." Kiba was surprisingly blatant about it, as if Shikamaru was something of a last resort.

"Then go bother Naruto." Shikamaru tried to close his eyes but Kiba's fingers pulled his eyelids back open. Even with his long, sharp, claw-like nails he managed to skillfully execute the motion in a controlled enough manner that he didn't scratch the actual eye.

"He had to go take a piss," Kiba said, sounding even more blatant, convincing Shikamaru that he was the last choice his session-mate had wanted to choose for entertainment.

"What an elegant vocabulary you have."

"Isn't it?"

"… Well if you're bored, go scare Naruto while he's writing his name in the dirt."

"That's actually a really good idea, but I'll pass."

"How come?"

"I'm kind of curious. You never told us about why you're stuck out here in the grass with us, the bugs, and that pigeon-head. You look out of place in a freak show like this."

"…"

"… What, not going to answer?" Kiba cocked his head at the boy below him. "What use is it for you to come here anyway? You barely say a word to anyone and when you're taken somewhere to have fun all you do is sleep. The least you can do is stay awake."

Kiba looked very irritated. Shikamaru was getting a little annoyed too, but he supposed there was some truth to what had been said. Shikamaru was accustomed to closing himself off in his own little world where it was nice and cozy. However he was too proud to admit that he was at fault. "It's none of your business. Besides, what do you care?"

Kiba sneered. "Don't be such a drama queen."

There was silence as Shikamaru considered Kiba's words, blinking as he stared up into dark brown eyes. Maybe Kiba was right—maybe he was being dramatic. But one thing Shikamaru was sure of—something needed to change.

His lips parted slightly as he whispered to himself, his eyes going unfocused. "… Change, huh…?" He looked Kiba in the eye once more, a long pause ensuing as his thoughts came to a complete halt, and for once in a long time, his mind fell into a comfortable state of dormancy. "Maybe you're right … no, you probably are. I have to be a drama queen, don't I?"

Kiba blinked at him. "… I never called you a drama queen. But I'm in no position to disagree with you."

Now it was Shikamaru's turn to blink. His eyes widened a bit and he stared for a few seconds before the corners of his mouth stretched into a smile and he started laughing as he sat up.

"W-what the hell are you laughing at?!"

"You … you're messed up."

"I am not! I'm perfectly fine!"

"It's okay. You're pretty cool for being screwed in the head."

"… Cool, huh? … So it's cool … to have all these problems?"

Shikamaru looked at him. His eyes looked very confused, an apparent sign of his mental struggle.

"… Too many times I've tried to go to sleep so I wouldn't have to face reality anymore … and too many times I've tried to wake up to escape from my nightmares." Kiba was silent but Shikamaru could've sworn that he nodded minutely in understanding. He turned and looked out over the hills, seeing the faces of Chouji, Ino, his parents, Eiji, and that poor child that was hopefully now in a happier place. "I've convinced myself that I'm insane … because it's the easiest way to convince myself this is all a dream that I'll someday break away from. Remembering how I got here tears that all apart. It makes all of my defenses useless and it shows me just how small, weak, and stupid I am. The worst part is not the journey, but being reminded every day that I'm the one who ruined it."

He turned to Kiba, for the first time letting despair escape from where it had been locked away for so long, building up until it was too late to find an opening where it could be emptied out.

"If I face myself now, after so long, I'll lose my mind. But … if you really want to know—will you listen without judging me?"

Shikamaru knew that he wouldn't be able to talk about what happened without also saying how it made him feel, and if he let go of all that baggage … he would surely break down and sob and beg for those long fingernails to just dig into his heart and end it all. It suddenly sounded like such a good proposition. That insanity that threatened to take over if just one more person had the balls to talk to him, insult him, and give him advice like they understood the situation, was why he had to make sure of one thing.

"Will you just listen?"

"… I can't promise I'll be completely silent. Especially if I get pissed," Kiba said truthfully. Shikamaru's heart sank a little until he saw the other boy's lips curl up in a grin to reveal canine teeth. "But something tells me you won't be the one I'll be pissed at. And if you get irritated, you can just let me know anyway. Fair enough?"

"… Fair enough."

"… One question. You gonna cry?"

"… I probably will."

"That would be so embarrassing. Lucky for you there's a fifty-fifty chance I'll forget you ever did. At least for a little while, anyway."

"Hah … yeah … lucky for me, eh …?"

Shikamaru smiled a little and patted Kiba's shoulder. "… You know something? You're not bad for someone with brain damage and dog breath."

"And you're not too awful for a jack-ass with fruit-shaped hair," Kiba said, giving him a playful punch on the arm. "So, you ready to get down to business?"

All of the light went out of Shikamaru's face and he nodded. "Yeah … quick like a band-aid, right?" He looked at Kiba who nodded in agreement. "Very well then. I guess I'll have to start from the beginning …"

And for a split second, Shikamaru started believing that things would get better.

… At least, this was how he wished it would've happened. But his pride wouldn't allow him to admit that maybe he was a drama queen after all, and instead of replying to Kiba he just sat there staring at him dumbly, so many words unsaid in his throat that he could choke. Kiba stared back, his eyes challenging him to break past the barrier in his voice and say it all. He sat up and moved over to escape being stared at and looked down to the ground, clearing his throat, trying to get something to come out. All he could manage was to choke out "sorry" earning a look from Kiba that he couldn't identify.

"Shikamaru …" Kiba started to say before Naruto's loud voice sang out from far behind them. They both turned to look and saw Naruto standing at the very top of the hill waving and smiling. Kiba looked to Shikamaru, but he refused to make eye contact.

"… You alright?" Kiba asked him, unmoving.

"I'm fine. Just get out of here," Shikamaru insisted, waving at him without looking.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Kiba stared at him a few more seconds before Naruto called out to him again and he finally turned his gaze towards the bouncing blonde boy. He sighed and gave one last glance towards Shikamaru before he started to walk up the hill. Shikamaru kept his eyes on the grass, a strange sense of disappointment in his heart. He slowly lifted his head and glanced back at Kiba's disappearing figure. He wished he could rewind things and perhaps give Kiba a different answer so that he could receive a better ending. He took in a shuddering breath and turned away, rubbing his temples, chalking this situation up as another mistake he'd made.

He never noticed Kiba's footsteps coming to a halt. He never saw Kiba falter several times, chewing his lip, moving towards him then towards Naruto then towards him again, trying to make up his mind … or perhaps trying to control what decision he made and what action he took. It looked like he was being torn both ways, like there were two separate feelings inside fighting for dominate control, and Kiba couldn't tell which one was the way he really felt. He ran a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath, looking at Shikamaru's head from behind.

Then he dove for Shikamaru and grabbed him, picking him up and pulling him up the hill towards Naruto. The other boy was taken completely by surprise and started struggling. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"I know you were lying," Kiba said in that beautifully blatant way of his.

"And how would you know this?"

"… I know because you lie just like how I do."

"I already told you I'm not—"

Kiba let go of Shikamaru and got in his face, grabbing him by the front of the shirt with a growl. "Then tell me to my face!" he snarled. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you're happy. Can you do that without looking away or blinking?"

Shikamaru winced a little at Kiba's harsh tone and chose to remain silent. He wouldn't let himself look away—he was sure that would be a definite admission that Kiba was right. And even if he was right, Shikamaru couldn't bear to admit to anyone else that something was horribly wrong.

"What in the world are you guys doing?" Naruto said, coming up behind them. Shikamaru looked at him, happy to have something else other than a set expression to look at.

Kiba also looked back towards Naruto. "Nothing. We were just having a man-to-man talk."

"Oh! Well, I'm good now, so let's go take that walk." Naruto's face lit up in a broad, goofy smile.

"Sounds like a plan! But Shikamaru wanted to come too. Right, Shikamaru?" Kiba said, nudging said boy hard in the rib cage with an elbow.

He glared. "No I—"

"Alright! We'll be like the … uh … what's that candy bar again? Something about three…?"

"The three musketeers?" Kiba chimed in.

"Yeah, them! We'll be just like the three musketeers!" Naruto started skipping off, laughing happily at the idea.

"Fuck yeah!" Kiba said, dragging Shikamaru roughly by the arm.

"I'm gonna kill you …" Shikamaru grumbled.

"Bite me," Kiba said with a fake, strained smile.

Later Shikamaru would probably reflect on the happening with a bit of happiness and amusement. After all, it was the beginning of a new friendship, a new path, and a new way to cope with suffering. But that night as he crawled under the covers in the floor of the living room, he could only look back on the day with anger. After being enlisted to join the boys' troupe, he'd been dragged all over creation; they made him chase animals; they made him play the victim in a fight with sticks. Late into the night, he was still fuming, wishing that those two idiots would've left him alone. But what was really bothering him was that Kiba's words were still chasing his thoughts.

"_Don't be such a drama queen."_

Why did it bother him so much? It was only a few words—just another one of the many names he'd been called. Just another disappointed tone to listen to. But that sentence and that sentence alone replayed itself over and over in his head as he watched the ceiling, trying to find some kind of peace so he could sleep.

_Drama queen, huh …?_ Shikamaru smirked to himself and closed his eyes. _And what if I am?_

He tried not to think about it more than that. It would only cause him to reflect upon himself and if he did that it would just circle right back around to the trouble that had put him in that dingy little apartment and caused him nightmares. He sighed and as he drifted off prepared for the normal gruesome scene he could never get used to and the rude awakening that always followed.

But little did he know that this would be the first night in months that his nightmares would be nowhere to be found.

**(XXX)**

Note: Okay, there might be some technical things wrong with this chapter, but overall I think I did pretty well. I hope it didn't seem too rushed or something. In any case, it will definitely all improve later. Anyhow, I must contemplate what I will do for the next chapter. Please give feedback, and let me know if I'm still doing well.


	6. Fliers, Vomit, and Skirts, Oh My!

**Disclaimer: While I'm tired of having to put these at the top of every chapter I do, I suppose it's a necessity. I own none of Naruto, but the anime and manga are splendid, and you should support the franchise by buying some volumes. This is just a project for fun and writing critique. So now that I've reiterated this for the UMPTEENTH TIME, let us continue into the story.**

INTRODUCTION: I've made it this far, and I couldn't have done it without your support. So now I need to shove this whole thing into the world of daily school life so I can get at the other characters more easily. I believe that in the chapters I will be doling out in the near future I will begin to introduce some of the most prominent figures—like Sasuke and Gaara—and some of the least noticeable, but often equally as important—such as Ino and Kankuro. That's another thing—as you read on you will find that less important characters, namely Kankuro, will become regulars, and that people who were crucial in the first chapters (*cough* Kakashi and Iruka *cough*) will be explored more as the reasons for all this craziness begin to surface. I hope to do the next chapters with subjects in some order similar to this: integration with school life, Sasuke, Lee (technically this is Gaara's chapter, but Lee is his way into the story), Kankuro, and then we'll go from there. Maybe this will all completely rearrange itself, but who knows? Also, please note that Kiba's thoughts are strange (this was always true but probably even more so now that he's been hit a couple of times in the head) so bear with it. Enough of my blabbering. You all came here to see the show.

**(XXX)**

Walking the halls of Konoha High School was extremely nostalgic in many ways that Kiba wished it wasn't. Still he felt a sense of pride and happiness as he remembered, _Yeah. I was once part of this school, and boy did we have some memories._

He wondered if later his treacherous mind would change itself around like it supposedly had kept doing ever since he'd been attacked. He decided he should just write it down for himself later. Lately he'd been in the habit of keeping a journal of his thoughts, at the recommendation of Naruto—whose mental disorder had symptoms very similar to that of Kiba's. Naruto said Kakashi had suggested it in the first place as a way to help examine and identify changes in behavior. Naruto had started writing all kinds of seemingly pointless stuff randomly, no matter the mood, and eventually Kiba started doing so too. After looking over what he'd written he was for the first time forced to face that there was indeed something wrong with his brain.

However, he knew one thing that wouldn't change—he would always be _extremely_ fascinated by Shikamaru. Lately Kakashi had suggested to the trio already in his group that if they knew a friend from school who could benefit from his services that they should give out his business cards and possibly hang up a few flyers. Shikamaru had casually joked that Kakashi shouldn't take advantage of "child labor" for more customers, but everyone knew that he believed the young therapist was just trying to help as many as he could. He was definitely a good man—a month or two in therapy had taught Kiba that.

It had already been a while since the winter snows had melted into a lush spring (Kiba laughed so hard he nearly shit himself because Naruto asked once at a session, with all seriousness, why Kakashi's hair didn't melt with the rest of the snow) and Kiba was still stuck being homeschooled by his neurotic mother. They were having trouble finding times when their schedules matched up so they could both go visit some _real_ schools, so a lot of time had already slipped between Kiba's fingers, which were eager to claw their way out of his stuffy house. This was precisely why when Kakashi mentioned that they should pass out fliers and hang up posters, Kiba immediately volunteered to go with Shikamaru, who happened to go to his former school. They would be able to get the job done faster and Kiba could sneak around the halls while Shikamaru was in class to put some up on his own.

He felt bad that Naruto couldn't come. The blonde had been excited at the idea but Kakashi had the foresight to predict that some unknown visitor perusing the halls during class would not bode well for any of them—especially if Naruto wanted to try and get into Konoha High later on. However that gave Kiba a lot of time to poke and prod at Shikamaru about various things. Bit by bit he'd been chipping away, trying to reach the lazy boy's core to find out why a guy who was seemingly normal other than sleeping in public was in therapy. He'd tried the direct approach and it didn't work so while being subtle was not Kiba's forte, it was the best chance he had at the moment.

Although neither of them would admit it, they squandered quite a bit of time strolling the halls, talking about insignificant things instead of accomplishing the task they'd originally come for. Many times Kiba would strike up a conversation about something trivial just to try and catch the slight drawl in Shikamaru's voice, a little lazy and slow just like the person owning the mouth that it came from. Kiba was also a lot like a dog, so just like a dog he loved to sniff things. He'd gone ahead and taken a whiff openly, but luckily Shikamaru seemed to ignore it. In contrast to most people who either simply had a strong or light scent, Shikamaru's scent was rich and heavy. It permeated every part of his clothes so deeply that Kiba wondered if no one else could smell it (he hypothesized that the strength of it was due to Shikamaru's tendency to sit in one place for a long time, effectively "marinating"). Over the last month or so Kiba had begun to realize that beyond his almost non-existent drawl and interesting smell there were many more fascinating things to come.

One example was that Kiba had always noticed pointless things like the aforementioned traits and he thought he was the only one until he mentioned it to Shikamaru. Then, surprisingly enough, he'd seen those stern brows relax as a small smile graced his face, and heard straight from that smiling mouth about how Shikamaru had noticed things about Kiba too. He said it was a little amazing how at the park, Kiba managed to pull back Shikamaru's eyelids without scratching him with those long fingernails.

Another example was that he had a beautiful way of dancing around subjects he didn't like or escaping without fully answering certain questions. It could be absolutely infuriating but Kiba couldn't help enjoying how the control of some conversations fell straight into Shikamaru's hands. He also realized that the lazy boy could be frighteningly direct when giving serious answers and his opinion.

There were so many more things he wanted to ask and find out, and on some level he wanted to sniff him again, but he suppressed the urge and made himself remember that he needed to make sure he didn't draw too much attention to himself when trying to get into the mind of his companion. He found himself looking at the doors to classrooms as he passed by them in the hallway, remembering nasal-voiced teachers and spit-wads on the bathroom ceilings. Shikamaru noticed it too.

"You have a little nostalgia on your face there," he said, poking Kiba's cheek where a wide grin had stretched at his memories.

Kiba only grinned wider. "I miss it. There were some crazy pranks, some annoying teachers, and some good friends."

"For how troublesome it is, it really does grow on you, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. It does."

"It's a lot better now, too. They were getting some rowdy students in the past but lately it's a lot quieter."

"… Maybe now that it has, I can come back."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"Sure! And hey, even if it isn't, I'll have you as a bullet monkey, won't I?"

Kiba slapped him heartily on the back, but his expression suddenly became confused. He'd intended for it to be a joke, but Shikamaru was staring very seriously down the hallway, eyes going unfocused. "… Trust me, if you had me around …"

Kiba suddenly grabbed his arm and forced them both to a halt. He had a suspicion that this sudden seriousness was in relation to some of the problems Shikamaru had that were still yet unvoiced. So he wanted to try once more and directly ask him. "… Shikamaru, why are you in therapy?"

Shikamaru stared at him long and hard, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to think of what to say … or more like what excuse he would use. He was looking off in the distance again, remaining silent as they stood there. Kiba knew as soon as Shikamaru's mouth closed for the final time that he'd been defeated yet again, so he let go of the other boy's arm. "It's alright. I understand."

"It's not—" Shikamaru started to say. He looked off to the side again then sighed and turned to go. "I have to get to class soon. I'll see you afterwards."

"Okay."

Kiba watched Shikamaru as he walked away, looking a little weary with his stooped shoulders slumped more than normal, and wished that soon his "opponent" would break and confess everything. Even though he was not a patient person, Kiba would have to wait him out. He sighed and chuckled to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. He had some fliers in his other hand and he looked at them, deciding that he should get to work.

He turned around and for one of the many countless times in his life had the shit scared out of him by Shino who stood not a few inches away from his face. Another wave of nostalgia crashed over him and he felt a little uneasy, although much better than when he had first been struggling with feelings for Shino. "Yo, Shino, what's up? How's it going with Hinata?"

"… You're back."

"Yeah. I hope I'm back to stay. I miss this place and my friends."

"… Is that so?"

"Yeah."

"… Why were you with him?"

Kiba was taken by surprise. Shino's voice sounded oddly colder than before, very different from his usual neutral tone. "You mean Shikamaru? He's in my therapy group. We're posting up fliers—I figured I'd do some of that while he was in class."

"… Therapy group," Shino repeated, his brows furrowing. He looked a little sad.

"Hey, don't worry about it!" Kiba said happily, smiling broadly. "They're all good to me, including Shikamaru! I'll be cured and able to live without it in no time."

"… Well, that's good, at least," Shino replied, sounding a little relieved. "You should come with me to see Hinata. She's been worried about you."

"Alright. I've got plenty of time for that. And on our way you can get me caught up on all the relationship stuff! You know, stuff like kissing, hugging, deflowering—"

"Kiba."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Kiba was still very confused with Shino's attitude towards Shikamaru, but his appearance made Kiba wonder if the reason that Shikamaru hadn't said anything was because he'd seen Shino hiding. That would explain why he'd been looking in that direction so much.

_He must have wanted to keep it a private conversation,_ Kiba thought to himself.

He cast one last glance over his shoulder in the futile hope that he could catch a glimpse of his friend, but he had no luck. He was already long gone. He faced forwards and continued walking normally, ignoring the eyebrow Shino raised at him.

_Then next time, definitely, I'll make him tell me. Next time there won't be anybody to interfere._

He could already taste sweet victory and pondered how he would rub Shikamaru's nose in it once he succeeded. Or maybe he shouldn't do that.

There were so many things about the people around him—namely Naruto, Shikamaru, Kakashi, and even Iruka, the landlord—that he wanted to find out. He wondered what Naruto was like at work, how Iruka had been raised to be crazy enough to take in a criminal, and how Kakashi had gotten that scar over his left eye.

And to that day, he still wondered how Shino would taste.

**(XXX)**

Hinata had changed. Keeping up her status as an all-A student must have worn her down because there were slight bags under her eyes, she waited longer than usual before answering, and when she did answer it was with a hint of exhaustion. She was still bright and happy-looking, but she must've been working her ass off to meet all of her teachers'—and no doubt her father's—expectations. Nevertheless she was happy to see Kiba and when their former trio was finally rejoined once more in the lunchroom she pulled her tiny arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. She started asking rapid-fire questions about how he was doing and he had to pry her off and try and answer the ones he'd managed to catch.

Kiba had looked around for Shikamaru in the lunchroom before he remembered that the latter was in class. He decided that he'd wait until the boy returned then blame the mismatched schedule on him. If Shikamaru had been there, Kiba could've shown Shino that there was nothing wrong with him (well, in general) and that there was no reason to be bitter. His absence didn't linger in Kiba's mind for too long—soon he was happily chatting with his friends like they'd done many times in years gone by. However he felt that something was different and unfamiliar. He felt like a stranger and the atmosphere was rather awkward. He guessed that it was only because he hadn't seen them in such a long time.

Despite telling himself this, occasionally he saw Hinata's eyes darting about his profile suspiciously while he was facing Shino. He caught her once and she turned her eyes downwards, looking almost like she felt guilty. He wondered if it was because after they'd thought about it a while, they were uncomfortable being around someone who was gay, and even more so someone who had brain damage. He pushed those unpleasant thoughts out of his mind.

"So, Kiba-kun, how is the therapy going?" Hinata asked, looking at him directly, this time with curiousness instead of guilt.

"I heard there's an interesting guy running it," Shino said, and Kiba laughed out loud at the obvious insinuation. Hinata giggled alongside him.

"Hoo, boy, he's _interesting_ all right," Kiba replied. "Though he doesn't seem to get involved that much. It's mostly us kids interacting amongst ourselves."

"Ah … and that boy, Nara Shikamaru … he's in the group, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"So that's why you were hanging around with him."

Kiba noticed the hint of coldness that frosted Shino's deep voice like a window that's been exposed to winter. He raised an eyebrow challengingly at the dark sunglasses. "… Shino, you okay? You've been acting kind of weird, even for you. What's up with you and Shikamaru?"

"Nothing personal," Shino replied coolly. After hearing the way he said it, Kiba knew for a fact that Shino was telling the truth. But it didn't explain why he had a stick in his craw.

"Then what's with you? You just have an attitude problem lately?" Kiba said, curling up his lip in a bit of disgust. He really didn't like the thought of someone secretly bad-mouthing Shikamaru behind his back. Since coming under the wing of Kakashi, he, Naruto, and Shikamaru had become a close-knit group of friends, so this feeling was natural and mutual.

"I assure you my attitude is very well in check," Shino said without skipping a beat. "You, however, seem to be getting testy."

"Go ahead and try to turn it back around on me," Kiba said with a shrug, surprising his friends by letting the jab roll off his back. That was something he'd learned from watching Kakashi. "But you two have not only been treating him weirdly, you also look at me strangely."

"Kiba-kun … Don't you know anything about Shikamaru?" Hinata asked timidly, not wishing to incur his wrath.

"I know that he's a lazy-ass and a jerk sometimes, but he also works hard. And I also know that he's in shit up to his teeth," Kiba snapped, thwarting her hope for peaceful conversation. "What I _don't_ know is why he has slash marks on his wrists. Oh, you didn't know that, did you? Well, I'll bet it has something to do with people like you who talk behind his back like he doesn't matter or exist."

Hinata looked almost on the verge of tears as she hung her head. Kiba spun away and strode off, not even bothering to turn back as Shino called after him angrily and told him to come back and apologize. He had to admit that he might've overreacted slightly, but in his head he couldn't help remembering two wonderful people who were loving and accepting and never judged a book by its cover, who were now nowhere to be found. Did that mean that they too had been a figment of his imagination produced by the damage to his mind? He didn't want to consider that possibility.

As he passed people while walking out of the lunchroom and down the hall he caught their eyes, staring at him weirdly. He didn't blame them quite as much as he blamed Shino and Hinata—surely everyone had heard by now of what happened to him and had seen his retaliation before leaving the school, which even he had to admit was a little over the top. He looked every single one of them in the eye, no matter whether or not they met his eyes or turned their heads. To those who kept eye contact he gave a peculiar little smirk that left a look of confusion on the other party's faces. They never resolved their confusion—Kiba didn't stop for old friends or new faces, no matter how many people called out to him. Even if he explained everything to them, they would not understand. Now there were only three people who understood—Naruto, Shikamaru, and somehow, that crazy old Kakashi.

Only one group brought him to a halt. They were some hecklers, similar to the ones that had assaulted him months ago and landed him in his currently less-than-favorable position. He tried to casually brush past them as they approached but the biggest one grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back.

"Where you going?" he said.

"I don't think it's any of your business," Kiba said with a growl.

"Hey now, we don't want to cause any trouble," another guy said mockingly. Kiba looked and saw there were three of them altogether. His heart suddenly froze as a voice in the back of his mind cruelly reminded him of an unpleasant event involving three boys and a baseball bat. A bit of anger welled up inside of him. "We just want to talk to good old Kiba."

"Get the hell out of my way!" Kiba snapped, trying once more to push past them, failing all the same.

The last of the guys extracted the hand of the first from his shoulder and said, "Just let him go. If you get caught up in all this, you're going to regret it."

Kiba studied him suspiciously and saw that he looked familiar. He couldn't pinpoint where he remembered him from, but the recognition gave him chills.

"Shut up!" the first guy said, pushing away the third. He landed flat on his back on the floor and the second boy kicked him in the stomach. "You should've just stayed out of it if you didn't like it!"

"What the hell, man?" Kiba squawked. "Kicking your own friend while he's down? That's just sick!"

"Speak for yourself, faggot!" the first boy said, giving him a violent shove. Kiba stumbled backwards a ways but managed not to fall. He was seething with rage. He began thinking about how he would rearrange that punk's face and whether or not his blood would come out as red or black.

"Now look here, you son of a—" Kiba began to say, taking a threatening step towards him, before being cut off by the sight of a powerful hand clamping down on the shoulder of the boy in front of him.

"That's quite enough."

Kiba heard that slight drawl and smelled that rich scent and knew that it was Shikamaru's hand that had appeared. Sure enough, just beyond the wrist were those sharp features hardened in displeasure.

"I think that we should all just move along for now, don't you?" Shikamaru said warningly.

The boy backed up quickly, the second following him. "Whatever! Come on, let's get the hell out of here," he said trying to sound less scared than he looked and no doubt felt. They both dashed away down the hall, shoving other students aside in their mad attempt to escape. Kiba was surprised at how quickly and fearfully they retaliated once they recognized Shikamaru. Only the third boy remained—the one that had tried to help Kiba get away. He walked over to the boy and held out a hand to him.

"Here," he said. "Let me help you up."

The boy hesitated before taking his hand and looked up at him with tired and sad eyes. "… You don't remember who I am, do you?" he asked solemnly.

Kiba scrunched up his nose and squinted at him, concentrating with all his might, trying to dredge up a name or an event that would give him better recognition. This expression caused the boy in front of him to laugh out loud, despite his solemnity, which in turn made Kiba slightly confused. "W-what?"

The boy took advantage of his confusion and stood up on his own, letting go of Kiba's hand. "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. Glad to see you're still as spry as ever."

"Wait," Kiba said as the boy started to walk off. At hearing Kiba's voice, his gait quickened. "Hey, wait! Who are you?"

By the time realization dawned on his tan face, the other boy had already escaped into the tide of students going back and forth. Kiba remembered that same hand that he had just taken in an effort to help the owner up and how it had once clutched his wrist in a vice. That same set of hands passed the baseball bat down to the choice batter.

_You dumbass faggot. Why don't you beg for forgiveness?_

"Kiba…?" Shikamaru walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. "You alright …?"

Kiba looked at Shikamaru with an expression that indicated he was on the border of either a relapse or a breakdown. "Th- … that guy … he … he was one of the ones who …" He swallowed the end of his sentence, as if he was afraid to say it, the action obviously leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

Shikamaru pulled an arm around Kiba's shoulder and ushered him forward slowly, whispering, "Let's go to the nurse's office. She's not like Kakashi-sensei, but she can at least find you a room where you can have a quiet space to think."

"You'll come too, right Shikamaru?" Kiba asked him, paling gradually as the seconds passed, like the words he'd swallowed would soon reappear from the depths of his stomach. He reached out his hands and grabbed onto his friend's shirt, clinging for dear life. "You won't leave me alone there, right? Please don't leave me alone in there. They'll come back to get me, and then they'll definitely—"

"I won't leave," Shikamaru reassured him once he could get a word in past Kiba's babbling. "I'll skip class if I have to. It'll be alright, you hear?"

"Yeah … yeah, it'll be okay, right? Yeah, it'll be fine …" Kiba said, talking more to himself than Shikamaru, his grip refusing to relax even a little despite his efforts to chase away his own fear.

"Yeah, that's right. So let's get down to the nurse's office, okay? Just take it a step at a time."

Kiba nodded and walked alongside Shikamaru as they made their way slowly through the halls, kids stopping to stare and gossip as they passed. Some were silenced by a glare from the sharper-browed of the two, but most of them shamelessly continued on as if the people they were speaking ill of were not there. Eventually Shikamaru decided to just ignore them completely. What did he care if they wanted to poke fun? At least it made them feel better about themselves.

He concentrated on leading Kiba away as fast as he could. He didn't want to risk running into any other kids who made the boy's mental stability waver. "See that door right down there?" He pointed, making sure Kiba was looking.

He looked towards the door Shikamaru was pointing at before giving a small nod. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Closer than I thought."

"Same here."

However, to Shikamaru, the space between them and the nurse's office looked like it was three miles long, and he could only imagine how long it looked to Kiba. He had to stop once or twice along the way to steady his friend, the other boy's legs shaking as he spoke in a chant, like a mantra, "I'm not going to make it, I'm not going to make it, I'm not going to make it." Shikamaru did not let his protests unnerve him, and neither did he reply. He just waited a few seconds and let the shaking die down before slowly and calmly ushering him forward again. The only thing he dared to say was "almost there," which he repeated every time they passed a classroom door, drawing nearer to their destination.

Oh how Shikamaru wished they could've reached the nurse's office without trouble.

He heard a shout from behind them and made the mistake of turning around to see what was going on. Consequentially, Kiba craned his head to look with him. What they saw made Shikamaru's heart sink.

He was already taking off his jacket as Kiba's jaw dropped open. "Shino … Hinata …?" His face nearly went a green hue. "Why … are you guys …?"

There had been anger in Shino's stern expression until he saw Kiba's colorless expression, aside from the tinges of green trying to make their way toward the surface. "… We weren't done talking yet," he said in a softer voice than normal, intentionally making the words harder to catch.

Luckily Kiba did not catch them, and neither did Hinata who was starting towards him, her hand held out. "Kiba-kun …?" she asked in trepidation. "Are you alright …? What's wrong …? Your face is so pale …!"

Kiba was paying no attention to her, his eyes fixated on Shino. His body convulsed once and that was the only warning before Shikamaru ordered Hinata in a firm voice, "stand back," then handed his now-bunched up jacket to Kiba, who promptly vomited into it. Hinata shrank back, stunned, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Shikamaru clasped an arm around Kiba's shoulder and this time met no resistance when he set off at a jog, pulling the other boy alongside. They reached the nurse's office in no time.

Shikamaru swung the door wide open, interrupting the nurse as she was checking a child's temperature. She looked to the door with an irritated huff and an indignant expression that crumbled before the sight of the lazy teen's usually half-mast eyes now ablaze with rage.

"You better damn well have a room that we can use," he spat, uncaring of how ominous and threatening he sounded.

**(XXX)**

"Which room is Inuzuka Kiba in?" Shino asked the nurse. Hinata was standing beside him, rocking back and forth on her heels, obviously extremely concerned, but now well in control, unlike the hysterical state she'd been in after Kiba vomited out of the middle of nowhere.

The nurse shot him a strange look and then pointed in the direction that the room was in. "It's the door down that way at the end. But …"

Shino had already turned to leave when he heard the "but." He stopped in his tracks and waited silently for her to say her piece. "Yes?" He said after a moment, prompting her to continue.

"That friend of his who brought him here … doesn't like people trying to come in the room. He would barely let me in to check up on Inuzuka-san, insisting he already knew what was wrong, and that I should leave him be." She rubbed the back of her neck as she said, "Admittedly, for clarification purposes, he was right in the end. But my point is that he doesn't seem to hearken towards visitors."

"It doesn't matter if _he _doesn't like it," Shino said frostily. "It's _Kiba_ who we came to visit, not him."

He continued walking with Hinata in tow once she'd thanked the nurse and apologized for disturbing her. She then sped up so that she was walking next to him with a slight frown. "You didn't have to sound so ungrateful. After all, Nara-san brought Kiba-kun here, and probably ruined a good jacket in the process."

"Yeah, but I don't like it," Shino hissed. "Have you seen the way he's started taking over? He's got Kiba treating us coldly and he won't let anyone visit him. Who does he think he is? Kiba's got friends other than him."

"I know, it's just …"

"Just what?"

"… Well, think about it, Shino-kun. Kiba has probably revealed things to his friends in therapy that he could never bring himself to reveal to us. What if … we've done something to add to Kiba's troubles, and Nara-san is trying to protect him from it?"

"Don't do this."

"What if … it's our fault that he …?"

"I said don't do this."

She wilted, holding her hands behind her back. "… Sorry."

Shino sighed to himself as they reached the door to Kiba's room. He contemplated just barging in, but he begrudgingly had to take Hinata's words into account. If they were the cause of some of Kiba's discomfort then they should not dash in blindly. Ergo he opted to knock on the door politely and with a controlled fist.

There was a pause before a chair scraped across the floor and the door opened. Shikamaru slipped out, hands in his pockets, and leaned back on the door until it closed, obviously not wanting them to pass. "It's you guys again," he pointed out, although it was without bitterness—more like he was observing to himself that they had followed.

"Of course," Shino replied, managing to keep the bitterness out of his own voice. "When a friend is feeling bad it is only natural to make sure they are okay."

"Funny," Shikamaru retorted indifferently without so much as batting a lash. "You never visited him before when he was sick, right? But then again, you're an unnatural person anyway."

Shino was appalled at the comment which was so obviously a jab that it wasn't even funny. Hinata, however, ignored the insult and asked, "How is he?"

"He's in bad shape right now," Shikamaru told her, shrugging. "He's had one or two other breakdowns prior to this, so from experience with dealing with him, we can safely say that it will be a while before he's back to normal. He'll probably have to stay away from people as much as he can."

"Except you?" Shino said with a piercing tone.

Shikamaru looked at him. "Cool your jets. The only reason _I'm _in there is because at least one person has to keep watch over him all the time, and the nurse can't be forced to do that."

"What about the counselor?" Hinata inquired.

"No," Shikamaru said firmly. "That guy isn't worth the shit he flushes down the toilet." Hinata blushed out of embarrassment from hearing the crude comparison. Shikamaru noticed and scratched his head before waving it away. "Sorry. The point is he's not the guy we want taking care of him."

"Then why don't you let us take care of him?" Shino said.

"Do you have any experience with dealing with someone in a fragile mental state?" Shikamaru asked him pointedly. "Another reason that I'm the one here is because I've been in his shoes before, so I know what you can and can't say while a person is treading a fine mental line."

Hinata flinched and a wave of sorrow swept over the delicate features of her face. Shino merely became angrier by the second. "You seem to love rattling off reasons why you're allowed in and we're not. Are there any more reasons why we can't talk to our best friend, O' wise one?" He said mockingly.

Shikamaru glared at him now, his tone becoming harsh. "As a matter of fact, yes, there is one. Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes!"

"You're not going to like it."

"For God's sake! Out with it!" Shino growled.

Shikamaru poked his shoulder with a finger. It stabbed him coldly, the unforgiving sword of a warrior who must avenge his fallen comrade. His voice was low and deadly, dripping with acid. "It's _your_ fault."

"Oh really?" Shino said, making a facial expression that was as close to a sneer as one could ever get without smirking, standing his ground. "And just how is it my fault?"

The finger pulled back and jabbed him in the shoulder several more times as Shikamaru spoke, each stab hitting a little closer towards home. "_You_ were the reason Kiba went to the park that night. _You _were the one who caused him the suffering that led him there. And _you_ were the one that made him so messed up in the head about everything that followed." Shino's eyebrows began to rise in confusion as he listened, his interest piqued. "And do you know _why_?"

There was silence. A chill went down Shino's spine. Suddenly he regretted ever asking for another reason. He saw those cold brown orbs staring at him without so much as a blink, filled with anger and yet some kind of sympathy, and couldn't help but wish that he could turn back time and stop himself from asking.

"_You_ were the one he fell in love with."

Those heavy words were dropped quietly onto Shino's chest and the finger removed itself, as if it had mercy on the sudden halt his heart came to.

"Th-that can't be true!" Hinata cut in. Shikamaru wouldn't acknowledge it—he barreled right through, refusing to stop the avalanche rushing towards them, determined to let all be said until the last flake of snow landed smugly on top of them.

"He kept hovering between feelings, wondering if he loved you because you were you, or because you were a guy, or both. Even back then his mind was in turmoil because he couldn't understand or differentiate feelings for himself. So he asked you to come out to meet him so he could talk to you. He prepared himself for rejection, all so he could straighten things out with himself and hopefully remain friends with you." His voice stayed level, but the tone became just a little angrier. "Why were you late, Aburame? If you'd been fifteen minutes earlier, they wouldn't have nearly beaten him to death."

With that sentence his voice got impossibly quiet, but Shino could still hear every word hissed out between clenched teeth because Shikamaru was now only an inch or two away from his nose. He pointed towards the door—the action seemed calm, but his eyes were traitorous of it. "He wouldn't be in this room, in this therapy group, dealing with people all around who treat him like he has a real mental problem because he had feelings for a guy. You know, the only reason his Mom thinks he suffered brain damage is because he told her he was gay. She couldn't accept it, so she took him to some quack who wrote up a diagnosis so that she didn't _have_ to accept it. Why didn't you show up on time, Aburame? You come around now, all smug in the thought that you're his best friend, when you have no idea how much pain you've caused him. You think you have a right over anyone else to kneel at his bedside while he's sick? Where were you when he needed you _most_? And _you_."

Hinata flinched once more when Shikamaru pointed at her. Now he was up in _her_ face, his tone and volume unchanged as he shook his finger slowly at her, eyes narrowed. "Someone ought to teach you to pay attention to your damn best friend. If you'd been looking hard enough, you'd have been able to see that the _worst_ thing you could do when your friend is in the hospital is to brag about _your_ good news. And what about when he needed you, too? Were you ever around when he needed you there?"

Shikamaru drew back and clenched and unclenched his fist, as if he had an invisible stress-squeezer in his hand. Or maybe it was an invisible neck. "Out of all of us in the therapy group, his situation pisses me off the most. Stuck with two ungrateful friends and a world out to get him—makes me want to get rid of the lot of you." 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath or two to calm down. The moments passed awkwardly between the three. Hinata was hanging her head, tears dripping down her face in her shame. Shino could only stare blankly, trying to process what he'd just been told. Part of him wanted to deny it, but that thought disappeared in the next few moments.

Shikamaru opened his eyes once more and asked seriously, "… Do you still want to see him?"

Shino slowly nodded, and after a few sobs, Hinata was able to nod as well.

"Alright. Then stay here, and stay out of sight until I call you in."

He turned and opened the door, walking back into the room. He left the door cracked open so that they could see and hear what was going on as they took up their positions hiding behind the door.

Kiba was sleeping peacefully, the previous events having tired him out quite a bit. Shikamaru was glad that he'd let him drift off as he plopped back down in the chair, falling into it so perfectly that it was as if he'd never gotten up. He reached out, gently shaking Kiba by the shoulder.

"Kiba," he said. When Kiba rolled over with no sign of waking Shikamaru shook him a little harder. "Kiba, wake up. Wake up, will you?"

He saw the other boy's nostrils flair as if he were taking a big sniff and raised an eyebrow slightly in spite of himself. Kiba slowly awoke, blinking sleepily while he sat up with the help of Shikamaru. "Huh…? Time to go home already…?"

"Not quite," Shikamaru replied. He nodded towards the door, telling the following little white lie without so much as a hint that he had. "Aburame and Hyuuga are down the corridor. They want to come in and see you."

"… No. Please, not right now." Kiba groaned, rubbing his eyes before moving his hands to cover all of his face. "No, not them, not right now. This is the worst time …"

"They're really worried about you. They just want to get in, talk to you, and make sure you're okay. After that, they'll be on their way."

Kiba didn't seem to be listening. He was moaning the words "not right now" over and over, voice welling with emotion until he choked out in a sob "Why did he have to be there? Don't make me look at him … not right now …!"

Kiba had taken hold of Shikamaru again, but this time he grasped the skin of an arm, and his nails dug unpleasantly into the surface. Shikamaru showed no signs of noticing even as small cuts began to form. He put his hands on Kiba's shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes, speaking reassuringly. "They want to help you, and they might be able to, if you let them. I'll be right here the whole time, so let them in for just a few minutes. If you hate it, I'll make them leave. Alright?"

"You'll be here the whole time?"

"Yes."

"If it's too much, you'll make them go away, right?"

"Of course."

"I'm safe?"

"More than enough."

Kiba stared at him for a long time, like he was trying to wait him out, as if Shikamaru was somehow lying. About half a minute passed before he realized that Shikamaru wouldn't cave no matter what the case might have been. He sighed a little before he pulled his hands away.

"Then I guess it's okay—w-wait, what, what, what—" Kiba was looking down at his fingers, just the slightest bit of blood on the tips. He threw his hands up in the air, opening his mouth to scream. Shikamaru caught it just in time, pulling the hands back down to a normal level.

"It's alright, Kiba, it's mine."

"Yours? Why?"

"You gripped my arms a little too hard, that's all. With those sharp fingernails of yours, it's no surprise."

"… Then I'll cut them."

"Don't be silly."

With that, Shikamaru turned his head towards the door, leaving Kiba no time to argue. "Aburame, Hyuuga!" he called out. "You can go ahead and come in!"

There was a pause. Then the two advanced slowly into the room. Kiba's eyes swept over Shino first, and although he cringed, he managed to keep his lunch down without much trouble. Then he saw Hinata, her eyes red from crying, and he looked over at Shikamaru quizzically as if asking 'What did you say to her?'

Shikamaru shrugged, leaving the answer to that question for another day. He'd already dealt with quite enough of the Inuzuka's drama for a while.

**(XXX)**

Naruto leaned against the bulletin board in the hallway, tapping his toes to the music coming from the new music player Iruka had given him as a gift. He watched the occasional kid pass and smiled at anyone who looked his way. If the person passing was a guy, he would often smile and wave back, and maybe stop to ask what Naruto was listening to before continuing on his merry way. If it was a girl, in her vanity she'd roll her eyes and scoff without looking his way again. Naruto didn't quite understand it, but he knew the latter sex was starting to annoy him—it especially irritated him how he couldn't resist trying to sneak a peek under a girl's skirt as she passed, even though she obviously snubbed him.

There were few people roaming the halls at that time because he'd come in after school. Kakashi said that he couldn't visit during school hours, but he'd said nothing that prohibited coming in after school. So, at the earliest possible chance Naruto had snuck out of the house and wandered around until a passerby gave him directions to the school. Once there he asked the people in the office if Kiba and Shikamaru were still around, scrunching up his nose indignantly when he learned they were in the nurse's office. He didn't ask why they were there, since he had a good guess, and instead got a map and wandered around a little more until he stumbled upon the office. He went in and asked the nurse if he could go in and see them, but was met with words like "now's not the best time" and "come back later." Not one to accept failure, he walked outside, went down the hall a ways, leaned against a bulletin board, and waited. He figured that they wouldn't want to see him right away so he decided on waiting until they left—that way he could follow them a while before jumping on them.

He drummed on his legs with his hands, following the beat of the song. His eyes swept the hallway once more and he thought to himself, _someday, I'll be a part of this. I'll go to school here with my friends, make new ones, and work hard to be the smartest out of everyone. Then someday I'll get a job that can make Iruka-sensei and Kakashi-sensei proud._

Even though Iruka and Kakashi weren't dating or gay, they had a considerably close friendship and they played well off of each other whenever they were talking to or taking care of Naruto. One could think of Naruto's view of them in this manner—Iruka was the strict, stressed-out parent, always fussing over things and freaking out; Kakashi was the carefree parent who exploited the other's traits for his own purposes and amusement. They filled the holes left behind by each other. Because of how much they were like a real mother and father, pleasing them had become quite possibly the most important goal in Naruto's life. Sure, he had secret dreams of his own, like becoming a chef or a yakuza, but he decided they could wait—the first thing to do would be to make something of himself that would make his "parents" smile.

His conscience reemerged from the depths of his mind when he felt a finger jabbing him in the arm. He blinked away his life dreams and looked over as he pulled off his headphones. "Sorry," he said. "Did you need something?"

He was greeted by short, black hair and abysmally dark eyes. Naruto had to diligently restrain himself from laughing as he noticed how great of a resemblance the boy's hair had to a cockatoo. The stranger jabbed him in the arm again, saying gruffly, "you're in the way, usuratonkachi."

Naruto immediately gained control over his giddiness with a scowl, stepping aside. "Bastard. A man can't get a break in these halls," he mumbled as he put his headphones back on. He crossed his arms and continued to listen to his music, resolving not to budge if the boy tried to move him again.

He was left with some peace for a few more moments as the boy looked over the bulletin board and wrote something down for himself on a scrap of paper. Then he stared over at Naruto for a long time, examining him from head to toe, as if sizing him up. Naruto didn't miss one second of it and eventually turned back to him once more, pulling his headphones off again. He growled in irritation, "The hell you staring at?"

The boy grimaced, but his face quickly regained composure. He pointed to the headphones. "What band?"

Naruto raised his eyebrows and sounded out in English, "The Gifted Box." The Gifted Box was an English band (A/N: and totally made up, mind you) that played alternative music, and while most of the songs were in English, some were in Japanese. It wasn't a popular band, but Iruka—a die-hard fan—had bought some of their songs and put them on Naruto's music player, so the least he could do was give them a listen. He did, and ended up liking them.

"Let me listen," the boy said, taking one side of the headphones and putting it up to his ear. Naruto's headphones weren't ear-buds but the classic headphones, so they were big and bulky, which made it inconvenient for two people to try to listen through them at the same time. "Where did you get these clunky old things?"

"Shut up," Naruto said with a glare. He took the headphones and roughly shoved them over the other boy's ears. "If you have any other complaints, please, hesitate to let me know." He crossed his arms, staring at the door to the nurse's office.

He was denied peace once more. The boy beside him now pulled the headphones down so they rested on his shoulders, looking at the blonde. "What's up with you and waiting outside the nurse's office?"

Naruto swung his head to look back into those dark eyes. "What do you mean? And why is it any of your business anyway?"

"Well, I mean, you've been standing here looking at the door for about a half an hour."

"What are you, a stalker?"

"No. But I'm the current hall monitor and you're a stranger roaming the halls. It's my duty to make sure that you aren't up to something."

Naruto grimaced. "Or maybe you're just nosy. Say, Raven—can I call you Raven?"

"My name is Sasuke," the other said, frowning in displeasure at the nickname Naruto had tried to pick out for him.

"Alright then, Sasuke-teme," Naruto continued, earning a deeper frown. "Do you know two kids by the names of 'Kiba' and 'Shikamaru?'"

"What if I do?" Sasuke asked.

"I'm waiting for them," Naruto said. "I wanted to see the school so I came by. When I got here I found out that they were still around, so I decided I'd just wait here and go back with them."

"I think it would be a better idea for you to leave," Sasuke told him. "It seems like Kiba's having a real problem. Those two might be here for a while longer."

"I know," Naruto said with a shrug. "When the office staff told me that they were in the nurse's office, I figured I'd be waiting a while."

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

Naruto nodded. "Yeah. We're all in therapy together, and we get along well, so I guess the three of us are what you might be able to call 'good friends.' And, being a good friend of theirs, well … I know a thing or two that clued me in to what was going on."

"Therapy, huh?"

"Yup! I'm a bona fide freak!"

"Well, you definitely look like one."

"Standing next to you, I do."

Despite his words, Naruto was smiling, his grin wide enough that it folded back the whisker-like marks on his cheeks. Sasuke was staring at him, expression blank, like he couldn't comprehend what a smile meant. Naruto blinked at him in confusion. "What? Do I have something on my face?" He quickly ran his hands all over his face to make sure he got whatever it was off. He removed his hands to find nothing left behind, so once more he gave Sasuke a puzzled look. This time there was a smirk on the face across from him.

"Usuratonkachi."

"What? What'd I do?"

Sasuke took a step or two away from Naruto and lifted his toes off the ground as he presented his shoes. They were black and well-polished, shining under the fluorescent lighting. "What do you think of my shoes?"

"Too sophisticated."

"My socks?"

"They look okay, but knee-highs aren't my thing."

Sasuke looked at him oddly again. Naruto was more puzzled than ever now. "What? Is there something else?"

"… Well … no," Sasuke said. "Thanks for the feedback."

"No problem. Hey, could you come back over this way? The cord for the headphones is about to come out."

As Sasuke started back over, Naruto heard a voice behind him, coughs coming between words as if the speaker were choking, saying, "Geez, Naruto, what'd you eat this morning? I can smell you a mile away!" He turned around to see Kiba, grinning at him so that his sharp canines were showing.

"Man, to hell with you!" Naruto retorted, giving him a playful shove.

"It's probably just your upper lip," Shikamaru commented as he lazed out of the nurse's office and up to them.

"Thanks a lot, Shikamaru. Way to back me up," Kiba said, thumping him on the arm.

"Be careful with me. I'm delicate."

"My ass."

"I'm sure that too is—"

"Don't go there!"

Kiba looked quizzically over in Sasuke's direction once the insults had run out. "Uchiha? What're you doing here?"

Sasuke gestured at the headphones and then towards Naruto as he spoke. "Listening to his music."

"What band?" Kiba asked, looking at Naruto.

"The Gifted Box," Naruto sounded out again, doing a little better the second time around.

"The Gifted Box? Talk about no taste!"

"Don't get me confused with you."

"Well, love you too, princess."

"Well, I should probably get going. I only stopped long enough to read the bulletin board—I didn't plan to get caught up in the rest of this," Sasuke said, handing Naruto his headphones. "… Naruto, was it?"

"Yup, that's my name! And don't you forget it!" Naruto replied confidently.

Sasuke scoffed and granted him one last smirk. "Believe me, I won't." He turned and headed off down the hall, not even pausing to wave or look back.

Kiba grabbed Naruto by the arm before he could put his headphones back on. "Man, do you have any idea who you just talked to?"

"… Sasuke?"

"Yes. _The_ Uchiha Sasuke. I figured you'd flip out if you met him."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"In a bad way."

"Why would I flip out over that?"

"Don't you find anything fishy about him?"

"… Fishy? Uh … no. Was I supposed to?"

"Let's put it this way …" Shikamaru said, pointing to Sasuke's disappearing figure. "Do you see anything missing? Like some clothing item?"

Naruto looked over, trying to find what his friends were talking about. All he saw was that dark hair softly moving back and forth, skirt swaying as he moved, and his high-heels clomping along with his confident gait. He turned back towards them, blinking, more confused than ever, and said, "No. His outfit seems pretty complete to me."

**(XXX)**

Note: Alright, so now Shikamaru's spilled the beans about Kiba's past love for Shino and we've seen Sasuke—in a skirt! In the next chapter I plan to tackle several things—first, Sasuke's history, and how he is brought into the therapy group. Second, Kiba will finally learn the reason why Shikamaru is in therapy. The explanation will reveal a little more about what happened on the night Shikamaru was arrested. Third, I will probably try to do some other small things, things that I have not yet sorted out. Then later on once I get Gaara and Kankuro in the story, I can start trying to put in some major events from the original manga. I can probably get the Akatsuki involved pretty quickly, since really the only people I need in the story for that to happen are Sasuke and Gaara. However, the first thing I will do is put other characters in the limelight (like Sakura, Ino, Neji, Tenten, etc.) and perhaps dwell on them a bit, although the big goal is to just get everyone into the story, then progress from there once I have the plot in order. So, as usual, rate, review, and request, and come back for the next installation of the story.


	7. Can I Have Some Answers, Please?

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to go through this AGAIN? Alright, fine. I own nothing of Naruto. But please, if you like this story, go out and contribute to the author. This is a project done only for fun and writing critique, so it's needless to say that there is no money being made off of it.**

INTRODUCTION: Alright, so I got a little impatient this time around. *laugh* I'd gotten started thinking about the Akatsuki and really wanted to start getting them into the storyline, so I decided to involve a couple of them as the narrators of this chapter—namely Itachi and Kisame. However, what they are narrating is Sasuke's past. More specifically it's Itachi, who witnessed all of the things that happened to Sasuke, explaining to Kisame all the events that led up to the murder of the Uchiha. How many of the Uchiha are killed has not been decided yet, and might possibly remain unspecified. Also, I might formally introduce more of the Akatsuki in either this chapter or the next chapter, but for now, any involvement of the other members is pretty much only cameo. And I regret to report that Hidan will not show up at all here, since in this story he has not yet joined the organization. However you will be delighted to know that he gets a nice, long segment later when he becomes Kakuzu's partner. Now, as for the Akatsuki themselves … they're some kind of gang. I figure that on the outside they'll be a typical gang, going around and collecting money, getting called in to protect allies, and warring with rival gangs. However, on the inside of it all, I want to continue the theme followed in the manga, where they are on a mission to capture all of the "tailed beasts." In other words, you're going to see them dealing with a LOT of schizophrenics. I'm sorry for the unoriginality where that is concerned—I might change this part a little later.

Also, please note beforehand that the situation with Sasuke that I've depicted here is not as it seems. **You will have to read on into the next chapter before you learn the heart of the matter. **I put this in bold because if you don't pay attention to this point, you might think that Sasuke's issues are overused and that I just used them to put him in a skirt, and therefore stop reading. But this is not the case. In any event, I probably shouldn't tell you all of this since it could spoil some things, but hey, no one reads the introduction anyway, right~? So now that I've finished my ranting, please enjoy the next installment of _Raiding His Fridge_.

**(XXX)**

A man with light blue skin walked into the smoky tavern and sat down at the bar. There were gill-like marks on his bony cheeks, and he wore a crisp, new, freshly-ironed buttoned-up shirt. It, like his skin, was also blue, but a much darker shade. His pants were black as night and also brand new. Many people around him put out their cigarettes, hid behind their drinks, kept their faces turned away, or simply left once they caught sight of him. The formal style of clothing he wore and his mouth full of sharp-toothed smiles had already become much too familiar for the bar-goers' comfort. He himself, on the other hand, had been visiting the joint quite a lot lately, having a blast all on his own. He only wished that the people were a little less sour.

That would all change soon, since the very reason he'd come to the bar was to meet his new business partner who would hopefully be a little more cheery. The business this sharkish man conducted was a little shady and farther up the ladder than most could climb, so there were rarely any new recruits, and because of that he hadn't had a partner for several years. Sure, he did well enough on his own, but his coworkers always had their own partners to pal around with and talk to over a mug of beer, and he envied them for it. The days became boring and mundane when he had to do all of his work by himself. Or rather, put even more simply, he was a little lonely. He'd probably never admit it, though. Maybe he didn't even know it himself.

His boss had told him that his new associate would be easy to recognize. He was supposed to have long, black hair with a part in the center and piercing red eyes. To Kisame he sounded like one hell of a sore thumb. Even moreso, if you put a walking fish together with a fiery-eyed man and sent them traipsing around town in nice suits and expensive cars, that would undoubtedly be a fatally obvious warning light to all competitors. Kisame had always thought that the main goal of the business he conducted was to be a little more discreet than that. But after all, beggars can't be choosers.

The blue man looked around the bar a couple times, checking his watch, waiting for any sign of the recruit. During that time he downed a couple of drinks and discussed his reason for being there with the bartender. The bartender was the owner of the establishment and was a good business ally (not to mention that he was under the thumb of the blue man's organization) so there was no reason to skimp on any of the details when talking to him.

"Red eyes, huh?" the bartender said with a hint of disbelief. "Sounds like he'd be easy to pick out of a crowd."

"I know. I'm not sure why the boss picked the two most obvious men in the city to be partners," the other man said with a razor-sharp grin. "But I've always trusted his judgment, and it hasn't failed me yet."

"Well, I think you're about to need as much of that hope as you can get," the bartender said, pointing towards the entrance. "There's your guy right there. It wasn't a lie when your boss told you that he'd be easy to recognize."

Small eyes swerved to see what the bartender was pointing at, and once they caught sight of it, there was no denying that this was the guy he was looking for. A tall, slender man walked into the bar, nudging past all that were in his way. Some people protested against this, but most of them choked up upon seeing those crimson eyes accentuated by deep black hair. All the women, and a few drunken men, blushed and giggled as he passed. They stared at the back of his head, making eyes that decent people should never show in public, hoping it would somehow make him turn around and come talk to them. The fishy man could've laughed out loud at how ridiculous it was to fawn so much over a stranger. Looks did nothing for what was on the inside. He'd seen beauties that could easily compare, but their beauty never lasted.

Despite the way the newcomer stood out, no doubt the one sitting at the bar looked very loud and unmistakable in comparison, which was probably why the stranger came right up to him and held his hand out.

"You must be Hoshigake Kisame," he said. His voice was like his hair—dark and smooth.

"What tipped you off?" Kisame said with a jesting grin as he stood up, shaking the other man's hand. "Uchiha Itachi, I presume?"

Itachi nodded then sat down on the stool to the right of Kisame. "Luckily you weren't too hard to find."

"That's quite the understatement," Kisame said as he sat down once more. "You seem to stick out too. Glad I'm not the only one."

With his chin, Kisame made a subtle gesture at the women sitting behind them for emphasis. Itachi breathed in deeply and let it out slowly through his nose, which Kisame took as a discreet sigh. "And they'll be sticking us together," he said, though with neutrality, as if he were simply contemplating how to deal with the situation rather than complaining about it. "Not the smartest move I've seen a yakuza make."

"Well, I'm sure he has his reasons, crazy as they might be," Kisame said, calling the bartender over for another drink. "You want one? It's on me."

"Should you be drinking while on the clock?"

"Technically it's not on the clock. We don't have to start our first job for a day or so. Unless you're one of those early birds."

"Early bird or not, I think you should be careful about when you choose to drink."

Kisame raised a thin eyebrow at him. "I'm guessing you're one of those goody-goodies." To anyone else this might have seemed like an immature insult. But the way Kisame thought of it, and as his tone implied, was that a "goody-goody" was someone who tried exceptionally hard to be in the best standing possible with those in his department, usually for the sake of ulterior motives. Sometimes these motives were as harmless as the desire for a raise, but others were for keeping things about that person's past, or plans, hidden. The latter would make a person worthy of being assassinated.

Because of this, the remark that was just made gave Itachi some pause as he lapsed into quiet thinking. Kisame chuckled and took a sip of his drink. He knew that thoughtful silence—it was when a man sorted out how much they should disclose and if it would be bad to disclose it. In that regard, he was beginning to feel that he and Itachi might be polar opposites. And he had to say that it was one of the most uncomfortable things to be on the receiving end of. He guessed that was why he was never one for sitting in on the negotiations they had in his "company." And by this point, he had stopped speculating on whether or not Itachi could be bad news, and just wished he would either turn down or accept the offer for a drink.

"Well, you just don't seem like the drinking type anyway," was the excuse that he supplied for Itachi, ending the awkward silence. "Besides, your guess was right on. If anyone knew I was drinking right now, I'd probably get my ears chewed off. What a bad influence I am."

That earned him a glance that looked slightly grateful and a little less tense. It lasted for a split second before Itachi turned his gaze to the wall in front of him and made another subtle sigh, this time a lot shorter. "Something like that."

"By the way, I got a peek at your … 'resume,'" Kisame said with a slight scoff, knowing very well that no such papers documenting Itachi's prior working history would ever be permitted to see the light of day, "and I've heard things here and there. It's nothing much, but what I did find out was pretty impressive. You're obviously not a rookie. That's good. I hate an ignorant kouhai."

"… I also caught a glance at your credentials," Itachi began.

"Then you know that you're dealing with an ignorant senpai," Kisame responded with a smirk. He didn't want any pretty words from the new guy, though it didn't seem like Itachi was the kind of person to just hand them out.

"I think you summed that up pretty well," Itachi said. Yup, definitely not that kind of person.

"No-nonsense kind of guy, huh?" Kisame noted approvingly. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Now, let's get down to business."

This made Itachi tense up once more. He had a bad feeling about what was about to come out of Kisame's mouth.

"See, I hate working with strangers," the fishy man began. "It's so uncomfortable. You don't know anything about them and can't be sure if they will drive a knife into your back just to get at a bigger prize." He pinned knowing eyes on Itachi. "I know the boss didn't tell you this, but I'm betting that you've somehow found out that I'm supposed to be secretly testing you, right?"

The slight frown that came over Itachi's face answered for him. Kisame had to wonder how a person like Itachi would've siphoned that information, but he pushed that thought aside in light of his next sentence.

"I'm sure you know very well that that is one of the habits of a backstabber," Kisame continued, "and it's a bad one. So those days are over, starting now."

"So that secret has already been unearthed," Itachi observed.

"You should know I'm capable of much more than learning petty secrets." Kisame threw back the rest of his drink and looked at Itachi very seriously. "When you become one of us, you join a brotherhood. And a brotherhood is all about trust and loyalty. You're so careful of what you say and do, because you have something to hide—something you probably won't ever be able to trust us with."

Itachi looked like he wanted to protest, but Kisame knew he wouldn't, because everything he'd just said was true. He smirked a little, knowing that he'd seen through Itachi's rouse immediately, and that it had hit him in a place where it really hurt. What an ignorant kouhai.

"I'm going to let you off the hook this time, but if you keep hiding things, you'll have one foot in the grave until I have to shove the rest of you in along with it. So you would do well to speak honestly from now on."

In other words, Itachi observed, if he lied about something, Kisame would hear about it one way or another, and probably sooner rather than later. He was fully aware that he was being slowly boxed in, given less and less control and perimeter in which to move about freely.

"Of course, don't worry about small things like 'where's the cereal?' or, 'did you take my watch?' No, we all tell little white lies. I'm talking about the big-ticket items, like information that you possess relating to a job, or just how much you really know about the inner workings of your new 'company.'"

"So what's in it for me?" Itachi asked. Kisame smiled. _Definitely a goody-goody,_ he thought. _He has ulterior motives out the ass._ Kisame was rather glad that he'd caught him before he did any real damage. "Sounds to me like you just want to make sure you can take me down with the ship."

"If you adhere to my conditions, then I would follow you into hell as your brother. If you're loyal to me, I'm loyal to you. While it may not seem useful now, you'll be grateful later when I'm saving your ass on a regular basis." Kisame said. "Are we clear on everything I've just told you?"

Itachi stared at him steadily for a long while, obviously thinking it over. Kisame's words were obviously a warning, disguised by an explanation of how he would test Itachi's trustworthiness. While he would gain loyalty from his coworkers, he would also be bound and chained to them, and wouldn't be able to break away easily if he needed to. He also didn't like Kisame's sinister grins and the way the light reflected off those pointy teeth, not to mention how the aloofness that most modern-day mobsters had was missing. He seemed to be too much of an outspoken person for the kind of business he was in. The odds were against Itachi, and he couldn't find much of a good reason to say "yes."

Kisame took pity on him and reassured him that he had the choice of answering with a "no."

"Of course, you don't have to do it. If you don't you won't be able to join, but if you back out now, I'll let you leave without a fight. I will have seen nothing." He closed his eyes for emphasis, then slowly opened them, holding up his forefinger to wag it in Itachi's direction. "However, if you jump in, there are no guarantees that you will ever be able to turn back. So make your choice carefully. I'd rather you take your time so you don't regret the decision you made later."

"I can trust you on this?" Itachi asked a little cautiously, referring to the part about being able to leave without a fight.

"As much as you can trust anyone else in this city," Kisame answered with a shrug. "This job is tough, and there are no little cracks in the wall that you can keep hidden for a time when you might need to squirm out through them. This is my livelihood, so that's fine by me. But if you feel you have too much to lose, I'm in a good enough mood that I am willing to let you escape for now.

Itachi sat in silence, listening to Kisame, mind working and processing his words. "… Then based on that, can you answer me just one question?"

"I suppose I can." Kisame motioned the bartender over, who just handed him a whole bottle of alcohol. Kisame took the bottle by the neck and took a long sip from it before he turned his attention back to Itachi. "Shoot."

"What's in it for _you_? This whole 'brotherhood' sounds more like a prison than anything to me," Itachi asked him, watching him closely with intense red eyes. At a logical level, Kisame would've figured that the question was just another way of seeing what rewards Itachi could hope to attain if he worked his way up to Kisame's status, but for some reason on an emotional level he felt like it was a completely alien question.

"Well …" Kisame began. "Tell me … do you have a family? A good, happy one?" Itachi shook his head after a moment's pause. "I do. And if you become my partner, you'll be a part of it. While it's not the greatest or the happiest family ever, it's better than rotting alone in a small apartment in the slums."

"… That's the only reason?" Itachi asked him with a bit of surprise, one of his eyebrows raised.

"Well, there is one other reason," Kisame told him. "How young do I look to you?"

Itachi tapped his fingers on the counter, obviously trying to think of a merciful way to answer.

"I don't look too young at all, do I?" Kisame answered for him with a laugh. "Well, with this job, I can prove that I'm younger than I look. It gives me a chance to build up a reputation as someone who can operate well under intense physical and mental conditions. So it gives me a piece of the action, and a piece of the glory."

"… So even a man whose intentions are pure will dirty his hands without a second thought," Itachi pointed out, but not at all dissatisfiedly. He found Kisame to be quite a strange man, but at least that was a change from the norm—the norm that taught him to always keep your fingers crossed behind your back when you made a promise or spoke any words at all.

Now it was Kisame's turn to raise an eyebrow. "They didn't sound like very pure intentions to me." But in fact, unbeknownst to most people, they were. But that was just one more secret that Kisame had discovered Itachi had already dug up. He let it slide without comment.

"Those are all of your feelings and reasons on the subject?" Itachi asked for the purpose of confirmation.

"Yes," Kisame said with a nod. _Even if I missed something, I couldn't care less_, he thought to himself.

"I see. What a perplexing decision indeed …" Itachi set his elbows down on the counter and bridged his fingers, crawling back into God knows what depths of his mind. Kisame wished Itachi wouldn't just go off by himself and leave him with nothing to do and no one to talk to. So he did something about it.

"Well, now that we have all that out of the way, there's some information I want to squeeze from you," he said. He wanted to find out a few more things about Itachi. Some specific things.

Itachi raised an eyebrow at him. "But I haven't decided yet."

"Hey, you'll have a night or two to decide. I'd rather that we'd get a head-start on the whole trust thing in the less than likely event that you will agree to join us," Kisame told him with a companionable smile. But there was no mistaking that it was just an excuse. Kisame, trustworthy as he pegged himself to be, was just as sly as a snake when he wanted to be. He wasn't going to let Itachi get away until he'd satisfied his curiosity and learned what he wanted to know.

"… So what do you want me to share with you?" Itachi asked warily. He only got an unnerving sneer in return.

"I'm just curious about your past. I want to know where you're coming from. Come on and tell me a story about your childhood. Tell me how you got here. Tell me a little about that not-so-happy family you've known …"

"… And if I don't, you'll probably just use it against me and call me a disloyal, dishonest and untrustworthy person, right?"

"Maybe. Depends on what mood I'm in."

"… Well, I'd really rather not be painted that way, so I guess it can't be helped. But I won't repeat myself."

"Try not to look so dissatisfied. I'll listen closely, and I'll keep it all between you and me, so don't glare at me like that, okay?"

Slowly Itachi's expression had morphed into one of slight irritation, his eyes sharpening like daggers. And despite Kisame's promise that not a word would leave the bar, he refused to soften his gaze. He didn't trust the closeness that the blue man was trying to acquire, all the while realizing how beautiful the irony of this thought was. "… Why do you pry so much? Isn't a professional supposed to divide his personal life from his business life?"

"You and I both know that is a pitiful excuse," Kisame laughed. "After the conversation we just had you should be well aware that the job you've applied for calls for much more than a resume and good work." Itachi blew air out through clenched teeth and slightly-parted lips, otherwise opting to stay silent. Kisame took another long swig from his bottle, his air very casual. "I know it's tough, but life is tough, so get over it and tell me a fun story."

"… You know, for a second there, it seemed like you actually gave a damn about me," Itachi said with a surprisingly even tone despite the bitter taste the words left in one's mouth.

"It's unthinkable, isn't it?" Kisame returned, unaffected by the hostile words that betrayed the tone in which they were given. "Alright, if it makes you feel better, I'll go first."

That made Itachi's ears perk up. He definitely looked to be in a much better mood now. Kisame smirked at this, but didn't mention it. _You have to give a little to get a little, I guess, _he thought. "Well then, where should I start…?"

Itachi leaned in to listen carefully as the other man began to pick his starting words, but the bottle was ripped from Kisame's hands before he could even begin his sentence and the two men turned their heads, their gazes meeting with long, dark hair caressing the ivory hands that had pilfered the stolen item before moving up to a face with vicious, yellow eyes. Those eyes sneered at Kisame after peering at the label on the bottle

"Drinking on the job again, I see," came from the figure in a slightly raspy, male voice. "It's a good thing I came when I did. The new guy could've caught your bad habit of slacking off."

"Trust me," Kisame said, "he couldn't have." He turned to Itachi and gave him a face that clearly indicated his distaste for the sudden interruption and the man who was causing it. The man on the receiving end only raised an eyebrow, but Kisame got the feeling that somewhere on the inside he was smirking. "Itachi, this is Orochimaru, another colleague of mine. Orochimaru, this is Itachi."

"Uchiha Itachi, right?" Orochimaru asked, a nasty smile twisting across his face. Itachi did not like that expression one bit, but he kept his face stony, and shook hands with him when a hand was held out.

"Yes. I was hoping that I wasn't so infamous."

Orochimaru grinned at him again. "Not too terribly." He swung his head around to look at Kisame, expression melting into complete disgust. "I was called to come get you two. You've been given your first mission together."

"Guess the boss knew better than to let me take my time. What a pain," Kisame said. He stood and stretched, putting some money on the counter for the bartender. "Wish he could relax a little."

"Or maybe you could get a little more serious," Itachi offered. Orochimaru snickered at that.

"Alright, that's enough. Let's scoot before I get yelled at any more," Kisame said with an exasperated tone as he rubbed his neck, contradicting the grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear. "Barkeep! I'll be seeing you as soon as I'm off the clock!"

"I'll be waiting with great anticipation," the bartender replied sarcastically, picking the money up off the counter, noting the generous tip that he always received.

Itachi stood as well, looking slightly disheartened. The reason for the disappointed light in his eyes, Kisame knew, was because he wanted to hear what the other man was going to say. Another secret to add to the collection, he supposed. At that point Kisame didn't have the time to be true to his word, but he resolved to tell Itachi later. It might be a mistake to do so, since obviously putting any kind of faith in Itachi would be a double-edged sword, but hey, trust is a two-way street, right? And Kisame could never forget that he was on one side of that street, lest he take after Itachi's bad behavior. And with that, he exited the bar, leading the trio off into the night, leaving the bartender to stare after them and shake his head with a sigh, wishing them Godspeed in his heart.

Despite how he felt a little let down, as Itachi stepped out into the fresh air, away from the smokers and shady figures that inhabited the bar, he was grateful. He didn't want to have to recall all those dreadful memories again for the sake of some stupid test of trust. There was no reason to ever let those horrible images resurface from where they'd been buried deep in a heart that he tried to make impenetrable.

He didn't want to remember how that bedroom door was left open just a crack and the way those muffled sobs drifted through, as he peeked in to see the one thing that had given sight to the blind eye he'd turned to his life and his family for so many years.

**(XXX)**

"Oi, Nara," Sasuke said with irritation, kicking the lazy boy's desk, on which the aforementioned was sleeping. "Wake the hell up. I want to talk to you."

Shikamaru bolted upright and looked around, rubbing his eyes. "I'm awake, teach, I swear …"

"Class is over, idiot," Sasuke informed him.

He stopped rubbing them the moment he heard the voice of the young Uchiha. "Oh. It's you." He yawned and scratched his head. "Shouldn't you be out with your friends by now? What could you possibly want from me?"

"Just a moment of your time, if that isn't too much to ask," Sasuke replied calmly, although in his mind the words "you pompous jerk" were tacked onto the end of his sentence. Shikamaru must've sensed this because he smirked slightly before his face reverted back to its normal blank expression. It was kind of freaky how good his intuition was.

He leaned forward on his desk, resting his chin on his hand as he looked Sasuke straight in the eye. "What can I do for ya'?"

"That therapy group that you and that Inuzuka kid were putting up fliers for …" Sasuke began.

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at him. "What about it?"

"Are the both of you in it?" the other boy asked.

That earned him a long stare. All was quiet between the two of them for a few moments before Shikamaru scratched his head again, a little sheepishly this time. "That easy to tell, huh? Well … yeah, we are. Why?"

"… What's it like?" Sasuke looked at him with mild curiosity and a bit of anxiousness. It was an expression Shikamaru had never seen before and he was sure that the surprise he felt was painted vividly on his face.

Sasuke held his breath, hoping that those sharp brows wouldn't quirk at him any more questioningly than they already were. Fortunately, they were merciful, choosing instead to furrow in deep thought, the eyes below them turning slowly to the ceiling.

"… Well … you know, I never really thought about it, but …" He turned his head so that he could look at Sasuke again. "… If it does anything, it helps me to forget for a while."

"Forget…?" Sasuke asked.

Shikamaru nodded. "And because it's a group therapy session, I get to know and interact with people who are just as screwed up as I am." Then he just shrugged, indicating that that was probably the most Sasuke would get out of him as far as in-depth discussion went.

So he tried a different approach: "Is it fun?"

"Fun?" Shikamaru smiled a little as if recalling a happy memory. Jackpot. "I suppose. But …"

His face turned serious, a concerned light in his eyes, something Sasuke had never seen the other boy show towards him. They were on two opposite levels of popularity and not to mention wavelengths, so it was only natural. He looked like he was debating what he was going to say.

"… Well … I'd definitely recommend it to anyone who was looking for therapy."

"… And the people … what are they like?" Sasuke said softly, continuing with his inquiry, looking slightly vulnerable. As if the walls had promised that when they left the room the conversation they were having at that moment would have never happened.

"You've met them all. Excluding me the group consists of Kiba and Naruto, that kid you met the other day. Needless to say we're all a bit strange." The bell rang and Shikamaru slowly stood up, gathering his things. "Listen, I need to get going."

"Wait," Sasuke said quickly, standing up as well.

Shikamaru stopped what he was doing and gave him his full attention once more. "Something else you want to ask me?"

Sasuke hesitated for a moment before asking him, "… Why … are you in therapy?"

A light filled Shikamaru's eyes, one that Sasuke felt that he could somehow identify with. It had a look of coldness and deadened pain, both of which had manifested as a dull ache in his own heart long ago. Shikamaru looked down for a moment, pondering how he should answer, before he walked over and grabbed Sasuke's hand, pulling back his sleeve to reveal numerous slices, many of them old scars, some of them only just beginning to scab over. He opened his mouth to protest, pulling against the hold on him. "Hey, let go…!"

Shikamaru then pulled the bulky sleeve of his own jacket back, revealing the arm underneath, scarred with a much lesser quantity, but with far more brutality. He held it up next to Sasuke's, looking back and forth between them as if comparing the two. The marks on Shikamaru's arms clearly defined a mix of emotions that his face could never show.

"… This is why. I don't think I need to explain it to you any more than this." He let go and reached into his bag, pulling out an extra flier he had gotten from Kakashi with the intent of giving it to Chouji. He figured that Sasuke needed it more. He handed it to him and turned to go, looking over his shoulder at him as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Keep it. Tell some of your friends about us."

Sasuke couldn't even look at him anymore, his stare having moved to the floor, listening as the other boy's footsteps disappeared out the door. If he had looked at him again he was certain he wouldn't have been able to see anything but those horrible scars born of cuts that were deep and careless.

Just like the man who owned them.

People began to filter into the classroom as his erratic heartbeat slowly returned to normal. Needless to say he'd been beyond shocked, and while he wanted more time to process what had just happened, the everyday sounds of school were floating back into his head, intruding on his thoughts. He knew he'd have to concentrate on schoolwork, but he had no idea how he would manage it. After talking with Shikamaru, instead of having all his questions answered and his curiosity satisfied, now he had many more things he wanted to ask about. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"… Sasuke-kun?" He heard a voice say as a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. "Are you alright…?"

He opened his eyes once more and looked towards the voice, catching sight of green eyes and a lean, feminine face framed by long hair that was almost an over-powering shade of pink.

"Sakura …" he said, breathing her name in a relieved voice. He'd never been so happy to see her in his life. Normally he just tried to avoid the annoying girl, but for now, it was good to have someone who would treat him kindly, even if it was a girl he detested. "Yeah, I'm fine …"

"You're so pale!" she said, putting her hand to his forehead to check for a fever. "Are you feeling ill?"

"A little," Sasuke replied, taking note of the eyes of other girls around the room glaring enviously at Sakura.

"Should I take you to the nurse's office?"

"No, I think I'll be okay … thank you, though."

"Well, you make sure that after class you go to the nurse and get checked out, okay?"

"Will do."

She flashed him a sickeningly sweet smile that nearly gave him dry heaves and determined that because of how nauseas she made him he'd definitely need a trip to the clinic.

"Hey, this seat is open, right?" She pulled out the chair from under the desk to the right of the one he was standing in front of. "Is it alright if I sit next to you today, Sasuke-kun?"

He was about to say no straight away, but after a moment's pause, he reluctantly answered her with an affirmative as he plopped into his chair. She giggled and sat down next to him, beginning a long series of attempts to try and talk with him further. He hated having to deal with her, but in his mind, he owed her for her kindness. So he figured he could grin and bear it, without the grinning part, all the while making plans to take care of what he needed to do before the school day ended. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye only to see that awful smile still plastered onto her face. Some bile rose in his throat.

… And he'd be sure to take find out more about that therapy group—after a visit to the nurse's office of course.

**(XXX)**

Kiba could, literally, smell a jackass from a mile away, so when he smelled one turning the corner and the scent just got stronger and stronger, indicating the fast approach of such a person's, he tried to casually walk off as if he hadn't noticed anyone.

"Inuzuka," a cool voice called out, piercing him straight to the core. It could only belong to one person. One extremely popular, onyx-eyed, unbearable person. "Get over here."

Kiba's pride forced him to turn around and face the other boy. _Have some spine!_ his mind screamed. "… Uchiha. 'The hell do you want?" _That's better._

"Don't get your panties in a knot," Sasuke retorted. "I didn't come to make trouble."

"No matter what you do if you're around you'll make trouble for me," Kiba stated matter-of-factly, though he seemed to calm himself enough that he was willing to listen, his arms crossed over his chest in dissatisfaction. "Make it quick."

"Nara told me you were putting up fliers for a therapy group today," Sasuke began, watching as the color drained slightly from Kiba's tanned cheeks. "… You're in it … right?" He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it coming from Kiba.

Those sharp, brown eyes darted all around, struggling with something, although Sasuke didn't know what it was exactly. After a long pause they managed to return to normal and come back to rest on Sasuke's face. "… Yeah. I am. Why … do you ask?"

"… What's it like?" Sasuke wanted to hear all sides of the story. So far he only had Shikamaru's testimony to go on, which was very little, and was not enough to convince him of the therapy's effectiveness. The blonde boy, Naruto, didn't appear to go to their school, so he might not have been able to talk with him. Shikamaru had said Kiba could be found putting up some fliers, so Sasuke spent a good chunk of the day searching the school for the other boy.

"… The therapist is a lazy-ass," Kiba began, "and my session-mates are total weirdoes. Whole bunch of shit wrong with 'em, too." He grinned a little, looking almost as if he'd gotten lost in his thoughts and forgotten who he was talking to. "But there are a lot of things wrong with me, too, so it's perfect. With any luck, we'll either help each other, or screw each other up so bad that we'll revert back to normal."

"Other than how much you smell like a wet dog, I don't see much wrong with you," Sasuke said. This statement earned him a glare. "Why are you in therapy?"

"You don't know? I got my head bashed in by some goons, and it messed up my mind so bad that I have to keep a journal to have even a clue as to what my real thoughts and feelings are," he said bitterly. "Smelling like a wet dog is the least of my worries."

He put his hands on his hips, eyes turning cold and calculating. "Look, man, quit with the roundabout questions. I get enough of that crap from Shikamaru. If you want to learn more about the sessions, just sign up for the damn thing. All the testimony in the world can't compare to experience."

"That's the smartest thing I've ever heard you say," Sasuke said coyly.

"Just shut the hell up, man. You think you're so clever—" Kiba stopped mid-sentence and sniffed at the air. It was another familiar scent. One that smelled like meaty broth and pork stock. He knew in a heartbeat who it belonged to.

"Kiba!" a voice called out from behind Sasuke, the "a" in Kiba's name held out for a few seconds. Sasuke turned around and to his surprise saw the boy from earlier, Naruto, walking up to them. "Ah, Sasuke-teme? You're here too?"

"Well, I _do_ go to school here," Sasuke returned in a slightly mocking tone. It didn't seem to affect the blonde, who in reality had merely opted to grin and bear it.

"What're you doing here?" Kiba asked him. "Didn't Kakashi-sensei tell you to stay home?"

"Sure," Naruto answered. "But that doesn't mean I will. I already finished my studying for the day, so I figured I deserved to go out and spend my time the way I wanted to." He gave them both a big, toothy smile.

"You dirty rat!" Kiba laughed. "You better not let Iruka-sensei find out, or it'll be your ass!"

"He won't find out if you don't tell him, so don't be a snitch, okay?"

"I won't, I promise."

"Really? I'll know if you told!"

"How would you be able to tell, really? Shikamaru could just as easily do the same thing."

"No way! He's too lazy. He barely has the motivation to speak, much less tattle on me."

"Alright, alright. I already told you that I wouldn't breathe a word. You can trust me."

"Speaking of Shikamaru, where is he? Isn't class over for him already?"

"Yeah. I was just about to go get him when I ran into this thing over here."

Kiba gestured towards Sasuke with distaste, who gestured back at him with a single offensive finger. Naruto laughed out loud at Kiba. "Ooh, _burn_!"

"Oh, lay off it!" Kiba growled. "Let's go find Shikamaru before I have to kill ya'!"

"Aye aye, captain!" Naruto said, giving a salute and another silly grin.

Kiba turned towards Sasuke, a strange, almost sympathetic expression on his face. "Later, Uchiha," he said before starting down the hallway.

"See ya', Sasuke!" Naruto said as he walked backwards alongside Kiba, waving to the boy they were leaving behind. Then he turned around as well, putting his hands behind his head as another conversation was struck up between the two disappearing figures. Sasuke had the strange sensation that even though they were leaving, he was still there, between the two of them, listening to their laughter as they jested back and forth. He shook his head and the absurd feeling vanished, leaving him alone in the empty hallway.

He too began to leave now, hoping to spend his walk home in solitude and deep thought. If he wanted that, he wouldn't be out of the woods until he got off school grounds and away from the hoards of leeches that people liked to call their "classmates." And, he figured, he could take Kiba's advice and call up this "Kakashi-sensei" after he got home so they could arrange a time to meet.

He heard voices approaching and cursed mentally. "Oh, Sasuke-kun? Is that you?"

By the time that the greeting had been finished, he had already run away as fast as his legs could carry him.

**(XXX)**

Sasuke peeked cautiously into the small house as Kakashi let him inside, shutting the door softly behind him. They had already met and talked together a couple times before, but this was the first time he had been inside the therapist's house. The older man hadn't made a good impression as a host, since he showed up an hour late to pick the boy up from his house.

"Any particular reason I'm here at o'-dark-thirty?" Sasuke asked Kakashi cheekily.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Kakashi answered, his smiling face ever-unwavering, causing a slightly annoyed look to darken Sasuke's features. "I think there are a couple people here that you could benefit from meeting."

"But why do we have to do it this early in the morning?" Sasuke said with irritation, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, I have my office job in the morning, and then after that I spend most of my time either watching over the therapy sessions or preparing for them," Kakashi explained. "And besides, I wanted this meeting to be in a more personal atmosphere, without three or four other people sitting around you listening in."

Sasuke hated to admit it, but Kakashi's reasoning actually made sense. Of course, he'd never say it out loud. He crossed his arms and turned his head to the side, away from that irritatingly smug-looking crock of a shrink. "Whatever, let's just get this over with."

"As you wish." Kakashi cupped his hands and yelled up the stairs. "Iruka! Naruto! Please come down now!" 

There was silence for about half a minute before the sound of clumsy feet shuffling across the floor came from above them, getting closer and closer until a figure in ungodly orange and black pajamas turned the corner and scratched its head, starting down the stairs.

"What the hell, Kakashi-sensei—" a sleepy voice drawled, sounding so similar that it surprised Sasuke out of his drowsiness. However, the familiar, exhausted tones were quickly cut short and replaced by a chorus of thumps and thuds as the figure tripped on several steps and clung to the railing. It managed to regain some sort of balance then haphazardly pulled its way down, the journey ending with a grand flop at Sasuke's feet.

"Uchiha Sasuke, this is Uzumaki Naruto," Kakashi introduced. "Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke."

Sasuke didn't lend even a finger to help Naruto up, as expected of someone like him. Luckily the latter was too tired to care anyway, barely seeming to take notice of the tone of Sasuke's voice or the eyebrow he raised. "We keep running into each other, don't we? It seems we are fated to become one."

"Like frickin' Romeo and Juliet," Naruto said with a yawn, standing up on his own. He looked at the lower half of Sasuke's body and pointed. At first, the abysmally black eyes in front of him had turned sharp because the recipient thought that a perverse gesture was being made. "Skirt's gone."

Sasuke's expression softened as he looked down at his own pants in a bit of relief. He'd chosen to wear blue jeans because it would've been more convenient for getting ready quickly. If he had known that Kakashi was going to take so long, he would've done the maintenance work needed so that he could wear a skirt instead. He looked back up at Naruto. "You got a problem with it?"

Naruto shrugged and put his hands up as if saying "don't shoot me." "Man, as long as nothin' is hangin' out, I don't care what you wear." He turned to go into the kitchen, grumbling at Kakashi, "Make me some damn ramen, will ya'?" It was Kakashi's turn to put his hands up in surrender as he went into the kitchen to do as he was told.

Sasuke followed along behind Naruto. "It's to be expected, I guess. Obviously you don't worry much about style anyhow," he said, slapping the whiskered boy on the back in the center of his shirt right where a big red spiral was resting against a black background.

"Just shut the hell up," Naruto said, a sneer growing on his face. "You shouldn't be nagging me about my fashion sense. I mean, take a look at your hair. It looks like you cut off a cockatoo's ass and pasted it to your head."

"Well I feel sorry for the fox you stole those whiskers from," Sasuke retorted with a glare.

Naruto grimaced. "… Che." They both fell silent in their stubbornness, pretending not to notice each other or care about what the other had said. Eventually Naruto broke the silence with "You're nicer when you have the skirt on."

"There's a good reason for that, but it's not like I'll ever tell you," Sasuke told him with a bit of a smirk. "That tiny brain of yours would just get too confused."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. All the while I'm the one getting ramen for breakfast. And not the cup variety either. The good stuff you have to make in a pot."

"Ramen for breakfast? Seriously? Weirdo."

"Shut up! It's good!"

"It's dinner food."

"I don't see a label on it anywhere that says I can't eat it at breakfast!"

"And I guess the fact that there isn't a warning label on the side of a bridge saying you can't jump off of it means you should."

"Now, now, ladies, you're both pretty enough for the prom," Kakashi said as he served Naruto his long-awaited bowl of piping hot ramen. He ruffled the boy's hair for good measure. "Eat up."

Sasuke noticed the affectionate gesture, finding it strange. Kakashi and Naruto didn't have the same surname or seem to be related at all, yet they were living in the same house, and were very casual with each other. He was tempted to ask about it, but held his peace—what little of it he hadn't blown to hell with earlier insults—and watched Naruto, gaze analytical and scrutinizing.

Naruto clapped his hands together, a big grin stretching across his face. "Itadakimasu!" He picked up his chopsticks and commenced eating—or, rather, slurping.

Kakashi, who had been observing Sasuke's reactions for a while now, finally spoke to him. "You want anything to eat?"

"No thanks, I made sure to eat before I got here," Sasuke responded.

"Come on, you've gotta have room for seconds!" Naruto exclaimed with a mouthful of ramen, seeming to have already forgotten that they had been arguing just a few moments prior. He swallowed hard and hit his chest with his fist to try and get it to go down without choking. "It's really early in the morning, so you didn't have time to eat much, right? Eat a little more! It'll do your toothpick legs some good."

"I'm fine … really," Sasuke said, raising his eyebrow for the second time that morning at the words "toothpick legs."

"Just have a little bit," Kakashi said as he sat a bowl down in front of Sasuke, a box of cereal and a carton of milk soon appearing beside it. His eyes twisted up in what could only indicate that a mischievous smirk was lurking below the half-mask on his face. "It can't hurt, right?"

Sasuke could've shuddered at that look, but instead chose to grimace as he eyed the breakfast fixings set out before him. He looked up at Naruto who was still slurping away but keeping his eyes pinned on the boy across from him, waiting for him to start eating. Sasuke sighed a little before he gave in and started to fill up his bowl with cereal and milk. It wasn't until he'd eaten the first few spoonfuls that Kakashi spoke up once more.

"Well, the reason that I've called you here today is that, since you and Naruto will be in the same therapy group anyway, I feel it would benefit you both if you spent a fair amount of time together," he began.

"So this is a play-date?" Sasuke snorted. He glanced over at Naruto, who looked torn between amusement and irritation, and made a motion towards Kakashi as he spoke. "What, did your mommy call my mommy and arrange for this?"

"I'm not his mommy. That's Iruka's job," Kakashi replied coolly. Naruto nearly spit out his ramen when he heard this, earning a confused look from the guest. "Now, Naruto, I'm sure you don't mind, but I've already told Sasuke a bit about the situation that landed you here."

"No problem. Not like the whole city don't know anyhow," Naruto said with a shrug, mouth still stuffed.

"One should still be reluctant to air another's dirty laundry," Sasuke commented, obviously chastising Kakashi. Although it was probably in his own interest and more for the purpose of making sure that his own secrets were not broadcasted to the whole world.

"I will accept the blame for that," Kakashi admitted, closing his eyes. "But you are not entirely innocent, either, if you are willing to stare at it as it flutters in the breeze."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it already," Sasuke grumbled in response. "Can we get on with this?"

"Very well. Over the summer, during the time that you're under my guidance as a therapist, I would like for the both of you to share everything with each other. Your secrets, your possessions, your diseases: everything." The older man explained as he sat down in a chair between them. The two younger boys shared an uneasy look at hearing the phrase "your diseases." "Whatever is revealed can be shared or kept from anyone else according to your wishes, but the important thing is the impact of this exercise, which will depend on how well you two communicate with each other. Now, any questions?"

The end of his explanation was greeted only by confused stares. Kakashi took this opportunity to stand and clap twice, speaking as though the discussion was over. "Great! So I'll let you two get started while I try to wake up Iruka." Any other protests went unheard as the tall man strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs, the sound of his footsteps disappearing into the distance.

Needless to say, the silence that ensued between the two boys was quite awkward, the only sound filling the gap being the noises Naruto made as he ate. But after about thirty seconds had passed, Sasuke looked left and right as if making sure no one was around to hear him before he asked, "What the hell is up with that guy?"

Naruto sighed, partially in agreement with Sasuke but also in relief that the silence had been broken. "Crazy as a bat. And if you think he's bad now, thank God that you don't have to live with him."

"Really? It's that bad?"

"Eh, well, it's mostly just the mornings that suck. He _always_ gets up too late, so when I need to get into the bathroom he won't let me in because he's in the shower, and then when he gets to the kitchen he wolfs down his food, pushes us out of the way as we walk in, and runs out to his car."

"Us …?" Sasuke looked puzzled for a moment before he answered his own question aloud. "Oh, you mean you and that Iruka guy."

"Yup! Now, if you look at Iruka-sensei, _he's_ a normal, respectable guy. I don't know why he lives with a freak like Kakashi-sensei." Naruto said, choosing to leave out the fact that he actually _did_ know the reason.

"Ah …"

Come to think of it, Sasuke was supposed to meet this 'Iruka' character as well. He'd heard just a little about the man from Kakashi when it was mentioned that Iruka was the one who took Naruto into his home. But, other than being a whole lot of crazy, there was obviously more to the unknown man than meets the eye. Sasuke took a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, looking over at Naruto. He wanted to ask what Iruka was like, but he was afraid that he would just get a glorified version of who the owner of the house really was, since he was the one who'd saved Naruto and given him a home. But hey, you never know if you don't try, right?

"… So … what's this guy like, anyway?"

Naruto's eyes lit up at hearing that and surprisingly enough set aside his bowl, a third of it still filled with ramen, as he began to talk. "He's great, man, you have no idea …"

Sasuke cringed a little mentally and held out a hand to stop Naruto from going any further. "Please, don't."

Naruto blinked, a little confused, taking note of Sasuke's condescending tone. He furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side just slightly. "The hell? You're the one who asked."

Sasuke, ever obnoxious and frank, said, "Well, this Iruka saved you from the streets and a life of petty crime, right? He's your savior. I was hoping to hear about him from someone who thought of him as just a normal guy."

Naruto stood up and pointed at him in irritation. "First of all, if you thought I was going to wax about him as if he were a savior, why did you ask me what he was like? I mean, sure, I think Iruka-sensei is great, but only because he is. But I also know that he has his faults. I _live_ with him, so of course I know that! He's not some god to me that I fall down before and worship. Who the hell do you think you are to imply something like that? And what is that 'hero' shit? I don't have a hero!"

"You really have no one you look up to?" Sasuke asked him, voice laced with sarcasm.

"Looking up to someone and having a hero … are two different things," Naruto said, face falling as he sat down. "Heroes don't exist. Only heroic moments do."

"Isn't that the same thing?" Sasuke countered as he raised an eyebrow, earning another irritated look from his conversational partner.

"No. Those moments … are when someone acknowledges you for what you've done and how far you've come," he said, looking at his ramen as if he couldn't even fathom wanting to start eating once more. He seemed like he was having trouble explaining himself, and after seeing how much Naruto wanted to get his point across, Sasuke's expression softened and his patience held his tongue for him. "They … they don't exist. Astro Boy won't come flying in to save you. Neither will Iruka-sensei, or Kakashi-sensei, or anyone. There are no heroes, only heroic moments … little hints of what could be, and what we're able to do, but don't. Idols don't matter to me. I … I just want …"

_To become one to somebody else. To become somebody important. To have someone look at me and say "you saved me," and praise me as a hero,_ Naruto thought to himself. _But I can't be something that can't exist. So I want …_

"… To be acknowledged. Just like all those who have heroic moments. I want to have some of my own too …"

_If I'm praised as something that I'm not, after a certain number of times of being called a hero, can I become one? Is it alright for me to wish for that…?_

Naruto pushed those convoluted thoughts out of his mind. It was too much to think about so early in the morning. He also hadn't taken his medicine yet (Kiba, in all his elegance, called them his "crazy pills") so if he crawled too far into his shell he could be in a difficult mood all day long. He picked up his chopsticks again and the darkness that had slowly been creeping into his features fled back to wherever it had come from, leaving no trace of it in its wake.

"Whatever. How'd we get onto this topic? We were talking about Iruka-sensei, right?" He shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. "Well, you'll meet him soon enough anyway, so I guess you should just wait." He frowned and let the ramen he was eating fall ungraciously from his lips. "Bastard, you made my noodles get cold!"

"How the hell is that my fault?" Sasuke muttered, quietly enough that Naruto wouldn't be able to make out what he was saying as he turned his head to the side, expression thoughtful.

"What was that, Sasuke-teme?" Naruto said, standing up again, glaring, fists clenched. He was quick to fly off the handle, as Sasuke had learned.

Sasuke's voice rose so that Naruto could hear him. Though he didn't give him an honest answer. "I said, 'that's what he said.'" Naruto stared at him blankly, all the anger in him replaced by puzzlement. Sasuke waved it away as if he were shooing a fly. "Just eat your crap."

Naruto sat back down, still bewildered, but did as he was told. Sasuke looked over at him once more as he contemplated apologizing. He'd already pretty much rejected the idea, but fruitlessly considered anyhow. It would be completely worthless and out of character, and besides, something more important was nagging at his mind. He stared unblinkingly, boring a way through Naruto's skull, until the blonde looked up and asked him, "… What?"

He was greeted with silence, and those dark eyes still refused to blink. It was starting to freak him out, so he resolved to stare into the bottom of his bowl until the visitor's voice broke the awkwardness.

"Hey … you … stole food from some houses, right …?" Sasuke asked him, looking off to the side a bit.

"Uh, yeah," Naruto said, a little relieved that the tension was gone for the moment although the hairs on the back of his neck were telling him that it would be replaced by a whole new level of discomfort. He waited a second before asking, "Why?"

"… Do you happen to remember what you stole …?" Sasuke asked, head turning away just a little more.

"Well … I stole a lot," Naruto said, indicating that he couldn't bring specific items to mind.

"Then … one of the houses. A traditional Japanese home in a complex of two-story homes, with white walls and black roofs? Do you remember a house like that?" Naruto's eyes widened in recognition, but with the position his head was in, Sasuke missed it. "With hardwood floors and a small table with a couple weeds in a vase sitting on top of it …"

"… A door cracked open … and the sound of crying …?"

Sasuke's head snapped back to look at Naruto dead on, his jaw working, eyes sharp and interrogating. "… How long did you stay?"

Naruto could only wither weakly at the look he was receiving. "I only heard that much. I thought there was something wrong, maybe even another criminal in the house, or a ghost, so I ran. I dropped the food on the way and didn't even look back."

"And when you looked through the door that was left open, what did you see?" Sasuke asked in a dangerously low voice.

"I didn't look into the room," Naruto told him, nervousness present in his tone, making Sasuke suspicious that he was lying.

"You didn't look into the room? Not even for one second?"

"I already told you I didn't."

"You didn't even take one little peek?"

"_I told you I didn't look_!" Naruto yelled suddenly as he jumped up from his seat, knocking his bowl away violently. It crashed against the wall, the ramen dumping directly onto the floor, the bowl landing on top of it. He went directly to the far wall and clawed at it like it was keeping him caged.

Sasuke stood up and slowly walked towards him, stepping over the remnants of the breakfast that was tossed aside, trying to regain control over his features after the sudden shock that had seized them. "N- … Naruto …?"

Naruto stood stock still, fingers still gripping at the wall. When he spoke, his voice was different, broken and somehow not his own.

"… Over and over … until the screaming stopped. So much red … it … couldn't have been possible … there was just too much … how … how …?" He abruptly spun around and grabbed Sasuke by the shoulders before he could get away, clutching his shoulders tightly. "He had to have been just a kid, Sasuke. Just a kid. He was only a _kid_! It's not right, it's not right! He was only a fucking _kid_! How could … a kid …? He was so small …! How can something that small … so much red …?"

Fractured and disturbing images flew through Naruto's mind, torturing him with one of the many memories he'd made sure was dead and buried deep inside his mind. A fox darted through the corners and cracks that ran through it, always just on the edge of his vision, taunting him. Its aura was threatening which made it all the more nerve-racking that he couldn't see it. But the worst, the very worst of it all, was the sound of quiet, frantic squeaks, as if some mouse in a room he could never reach was slowly being skinned alive. It rang in his ears as if he were still in that very house, staring through the crack in the door, heart trying to escape his chest …

"_Naruto!"_

He was wrenched from his delusion by a desperate scream that seemed to be coming from Sasuke. When he came back to his senses, Naruto realized that up until that point, he had been violently shaking him by the shoulders. He tried to recall how he'd gotten there and why he felt so conflicted, feeling as though his memory of the past few minutes had been completely wiped. His breathing, which was coming out in pants, gradually slowed down as a trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face.

"… What … was I doing?"

Kakashi burst into the kitchen and threw Sasuke aside, grabbing hold of Naruto's arm. He dragged him into the living room, sitting him down on the couch. The confused teen made no protest and stared blankly at the coffee table, trying to recall what had just happened. Although he figured it was probably best that he didn't know. Right next to the couch was Kakashi's briefcase, which the older man pawed through until he produced a pill bottle. He handed it to Naruto. "Take one. I'll go get you some water to wash it down with." He stood and left to go do as he promised, leaving Naruto to pop open the top of the bottle, fish out a caplet and stick it in his mouth.

Sasuke ambushed the older man as soon as he got into the kitchen. "What the hell was that?"

"He has schizophrenia. Every once in a while, some bad thought or memory causes him to have a meltdown," Kakashi explained as he filled up a cup of water in the sink.

"You forgot to mention that before!" Sasuke cried in exasperation, holding onto one of his throbbing shoulders.

"Well I'm telling you now," Kakashi snapped with controlled irritation.

"Is he going to be alright?" Sasuke asked, following Kakashi as he turned to leave the room.

"I don't know. It's been a long time since he's had one of these moments," Kakashi said as he strode out into the living room, handing Naruto his water. He looked back at Sasuke. "But more importantly, are _you_ alright?"

Sasuke wanted to answer with a yes, but he could already tell that later the bruises would start to show up on his shoulders. He didn't want to say no, though, so he kept his mouth shut and glared at Kakashi until he gave up.

Naruto drank the water and the pill down until there was nothing left, sitting the glass on the coffee table. He slowly looked up at Sasuke, standing up and reaching towards him. "… Sasuke, I … didn't mean to …"

Kakashi gently but very firmly grabbed onto the wrist of Naruto's outstretched arm and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Naruto. Go upstairs and lie down for a little while, okay?"

The look on Naruto's face could've broken Sasuke's heart if it hadn't been made of rock. But he did feel a little sympathy as he watched the other boy turn and slink up the stairs as if he were a dog that had misbehaved and gotten hit on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

Sasuke knew what Naruto had seen, and felt even more pity for him knowing that he saw it. How old had Sasuke been that night? He and Naruto were the same age, so if at that time Sasuke was eight … imagine how traumatized Naruto had to have been, seeing such a sight without any mental preparation at such a young age. And if you took his disability into consideration …

But just what was this spectacle that drove Naruto mad with fear and, obviously, anger? Even Sasuke had become quite comfortable with leaving it in a forgotten pile of memories, and now had to drag it from the depths and wipe the dust off of it. If Naruto's behavior hadn't compelled him to do so, he wouldn't ever have bothered trying to remember it—it felt too much like opening old wounds to him.

_Well, the best way to describe it is …_

Naruto had described it himself, in as much detail as a man gone insane can provide.

So much red. He was only a kid. He was so small.

How can something so small—?

-So much red.

_Yes_, Sasuke thought. _That one color can speak these volumes for me._

**(XXX)**

"_Sasuke, father wishes to see you in his study," Itachi informed his younger brother, in his usual emotionless tone._

_Sasuke grimaced as he swallowed those words and the horrible premonition they left behind. He looked up at his brother with pleading eyes, as if the older would suddenly come up with a way to get out of it. Not like he would want to anyway. "Do … do I really have to go?"_

"_Yes," Itachi replied immediately and without mercy. At least he didn't string the smaller boy along. After seeing so many other older brothers do that to their younger siblings, Sasuke had learned to appreciate that Itachi was different, cold and robotic as he might have seemed. "We've kept this up for a long time now—it's too late for you to be getting cold feet."_

"_I know," Sasuke mumbled, looking past his brother and down the hall. His stare was hopeful, and as he swung it to meet his brother's gaze, he couldn't help but ask, "Is Mom home?" She saved Sasuke from many things—chores, monsters, even the wrath of his father._

"_No," Itachi said, his ruthlessness making another, firmer appearance. His habit of crushing Sasuke's hopes right off the bat was nasty, whether it was appreciated later or not. "Now hurry and come with me. You know how cranky he gets when he's kept waiting." He took Sasuke gently by the hand and pulled him along, heading towards the younger child's bedroom._

_Sasuke sighed and clutched his brother's hand close, knowing it would be the only comfort he would get. They held hands all the way to Sasuke's room, and when they had to let go, Itachi gave his hand a squeeze. When it came to small gestures like this, Itachi really was a warm, loving, and in this case, sympathetic brother. He opened Sasuke's closet and started fishing around, pulling out some clothes. He handed the articles to Sasuke one at a time, turning to face him when he was finished. "Do you need help changing?"_

_Sasuke eyed the skirt and blouse in his hands with displeasure. He didn't know if he could put it all on correctly, but he didn't want Itachi to have to help him. The situation was already embarrassing enough as it was. "No, I can do it this time."_

_Itachi nodded at him, his expression showing that he understood. He walked wordlessly past Sasuke and towards the door, about to walk back out into the hall before he felt small hands tug at the side of his shirt. He looked down at Sasuke, who was clinging desperately to him, stalling for just another few moments. "What is it, otouto?"_

_Sasuke bit his lip in hesitation. "Aniki … does … Father think I'm a girl …?"_

_Itachi stared at him for a long time, letting Sasuke's heart run wild in panic as he hoped the answer would be "no." When he finally spoke up, he replied in his frank way, "… Yes. These times when Mother is not around to be there for Father … you are the Mother of this house. You've just become a woman once more."_

_Sasuke's face turned sickly pale, but the change of color was hidden in the blur of his dark head whipping away from his brother. He let go of Itachi's shirt and walked back towards the closet, and dismissed him with a voice that sounded far away. Itachi stayed no longer and spoke not one more word. He closed the door behind him and Sasuke waited until he heard the older boy's pattering footsteps disappear down the hall before opening the bureau drawer next to his bed, looking into it with another disparaging sigh. A ray of light reflected off the surface of a small metallic object hidden underneath a shirt. He moved the cloth aside and picked up the wafer-thin tool, running one finger carefully along the sharp edge. "I guess I'll need you after all," he muttered to it darkly before putting it back._

"I regret ever having said that to him," Itachi told Kisame as he sat in the passenger seat of the stationary car the blue man had been driving only a few minutes earlier. They'd managed to get rid of Orochimaru after getting a debriefing of their first task, much to the relief of Itachi, who'd disliked the shady man since the moment he laid eyes on him. Now they were sitting alone together in the car, Kisame listening quietly to the testimony Itachi was giving for the sake of what he liked to call Kisame's "trust exercise." "I should've known that he wouldn't have been able to understand the metaphor I used, and in the end …"

He sank into silence, and Kisame chose to spare him from having to end the sentence with whatever horrible fate had befallen Itachi's younger brother. "You have quite an even temper," he said. "I don't think I would be able to be that level-headed about something like that."

Itachi slowly looked up at him, a small glint in his eyes that Kisame missed because he was looking at the steering wheel thoughtfully. "… Well, is there much else that one can do?"

"True enough," Kisame answered with a slight nod. "But if I were you, I would've been angry as hell at your father. So you can probably guess what I would've done had I been in that position."

His head perked up at the sound of screeching tires nearby.

"He's on the move."

He turned on the engine and pulled out into the street, following behind a black van, keeping a safe distance.

Itachi was glad that their target had grabbed Kisame's attention so that he couldn't see how Itachi's face turned inward on itself, mixing anger, fear, and horror all into one ugly mask that shattered as soon as they sped up and violently turned a corner in their pursuit of the person in the van.

**(XXX)**

Note: This was a monster to write and edit, so I'm sorry if it came out tacky, dramatic, or just plain poorly written. I've been racking my brain trying to find a way to take some of the drama out of it and make the character's a little less OOC, and have failed quite miserably. However, I've finally finished this chapter and gotten it out of the way, so hopefully that means I've broken through my writer's block. Please note, again, that the situation with Sasuke is not quite as it appears. I'm not THAT unoriginal. I will probably deal with the truth of the matter in the next chapter, along with the character that is next on the list of ones that I have to deal with. Anyway, I hope that you will be satisfied with this. I'm really trying my best to do better and better, but I'm not sure how it's going, and whether or not you're still entertained. I hope that you will continue to read this story and enjoy it.


	8. Black Eyes, Troubled Hearts

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Naruto. The rights to the anime and manga belong to their respective owners. Please support the franchise by buying a few volumes of the anime and manga. Please also note that this is a fan-made project, and is only for the purpose of fun and writing critique. In other words, NO MONEY IS BEING MADE FROM THIS STORY. Thank you for taking heed of this disclaimer, and please enjoy the story.**

Please read the introduction~? … Please~?

INTRODUCTION: So in this chapter I will deal with a few things—

**Food For Thought; a Better Introduction:** Normally when I start a chapter, my introductory words are either mindless babble or a dry statement of facts. The original introduction to this chapter was the same (hence the crossed out words). However, this time around, as I continued writing the story, I felt a real need to actually _say_ something here at the beginning.

Since the first time he was ever brought into the manga, I have hated Uchiha Sasuke with a burning passion that was at first only justified by my gut instinct, which is rarely wrong—that and the fact that he's been an arrogant bastard since day one. But that's a different story. From the beginning I'd known that I would in no way be able to exclude Sasuke, no matter how much I hated him, and mulled over ways to portray him. I was determined to portray him correctly, but a dark, rotten part of my heart had always wanted to humiliate him, take senseless revenge on the Sasuke of another universe for what the first Sasuke had done. At first I had considered taking a typical route—familial sexual and/or physical abuse, but quickly discarded the idea because I knew I would never be satisfied with such a plain, overused plot. So I contemplated the components of the original, more typical idea that I wanted to keep, and wondered to myself, "How can I make this special?"

Thanks to another user called Xenophili, who gave me extensive constructive criticism on what I'd already written, I was reminded of my original purpose with writing this serial story, and that was to twist up manga characters until they had far more realistic problems and situations, and to make them feel real to readers while keeping them in character. To make them easier to relate to, and to understand two things I did not understand by putting myself in their shoes. The first thing I was ignorant of was who they really were. The second was who they became after I got through with them.

"One thing I can't really say fits is Sasuke's whole personality," Xenophili told me in a review after reading the chapter prior to this. "[He seems] a lot less offensive than he really is, almost like he's being portrayed as a bit weak in the mind."

As twisted as I think Sasuke is, I (quite grudgingly, in fact) had to agree with my viewer. Sasuke is not weak in the mind. He's mentally ill, but his resolution is strong, his hate a sturdy foundation. And I thought to myself, "Yeah, idiot, what have you been doing? What were you planning on doing?" The answer is simple: the wrong thing. I closed my mind off to a character because I disagreed with his ideals, and to do that is suicide as a writer. So for many a week, I would pause every other day or so and think with a mind different than my own.

I have spent a long time getting to know Sasuke, the Sasuke that I molded with my own hands and yet shunned with my misunderstanding. And this peaceful coexistence that has resulted, though filled with the knowing and the feeling of Sasuke's hatred and despair, has wrapped me up like a blanket with the arsenal of weaponry that I once used without discretion against him. Lord, do I still hate him, but I feel like he is my brother, my child, born of deep thought that has given me a deeper understanding of the world and the way its people work.

A little while ago, I was talking with a local friend of mine over Facebook, and he linked me to a song by Emery called "The Poor and the Prevalent." There is a combination of singing and screaming in that song, sometimes layered over one another. My friend told me that the man screaming was a different person from the one singing, but when he was screaming, they both sounded very much alike, making it seem like the song had one man handling both forms of vocal expression. I laughed to myself and typed, with a great revelation, "Isn't it a beautiful notion? That when we scream, we all sound the same, as if in one mind, body, and spirit." And in that song I could hear Sasuke screaming, and knew that if I yelled back at him, there would be no difference in our tones, our suffering conjoined, identical twins with opposite hearts—Sasuke, who had lost everything he loved, and I, whose pig-headedness had prevented me from doing well in what I loved, because I hated him. To be united with something that is nothing of you, and feel it is everything you are and always will be—that is one of the greatest joys of a writer. The incident invoked in me a great but calming emotion, one that reassured me that I knew now what I must do, a willingness to complete my task. I had almost forgotten what it was like to have such a passion for writing, a longing to do so much better. Who would've thought that Sasuke would be the one to find it and return it to me? Thank you so much, Xenophili, for inspiring me to open wider my narrow mind.

If you bothered to read all of that, please let my words shape how you read this piece.

**(XXX)**

"Mikoto, are you listening?" Fugaku asked.

"Yes," Sasuke lied as he fixed his expression to one of false concentration, shifting in the small wooden chair across from the other man. "Please continue."

As his father picked up where he left off on his insipid rambling about his day, Sasuke tuned him out once more, thinking of other things, his thoughts raging on in short bursts before the inevitable pause where he wondered what time it was and how long it would be before his mother, Mikoto, could get home and free him from his boredom. He had heard stories of other young boys who were dressed up the same as he, and used to replace their mothers who were either absent or unsatisfactory, although he learned that many of them were raped, whereas he only suffered through long sessions of his father talking at him, not really caring if anyone was listening. Sometimes he wished that he were being raped instead—at least he wouldn't be bored out of his mind.

The razor in his bureau drawer was kept in the back of his mind, the confines of which he would surely retreat to after he was through with his father. He would return to that old friend, with its mouth set in a rigid, straight line, and let it kiss his skin. Once Itachi had asked Sasuke in a hushed and brittle voice why he was close with his cold and thin companion, the one day Sasuke had forgotten to lock the bedroom door. He had sat with his back turned to the door, the red marks on his stomach crawling downwards with their many legs, like spiders down a windowpane, not even stopping as they reached that place beyond downy hair that had only really begun to grow in the last year or two.

_The reason is simple,_ Sasuke pointed out simply to himself, his voice biding its time, waiting for an occasion when words would truly be needed, letting the dripping lines of crimson speak his suffering. _If you look, you will see it._

But Sasuke would never let his brother see him from the front, wouldn't even give him a chance to understand, because he didn't want him to understand. He didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to say "I understand, but this is why you are wrong," because if someone really could comprehend his feelings and that person's argument coincided with those emotions, then Sasuke would be wrong. He didn't want to be told that, because he knew he wasn't. He might not have been doing the right thing, but he knew that he was correct. He didn't want that truth to be rewritten by adults who used their age as a pen to blot out all of the reasoning provided by those with less experience. And he'd be damned if he'd let his brother, only a few years older than him, make him his first literary project as he followed the tradition of the forefathers of mankind.

And that truth, what he knew would never be a lie no matter how it was painted, was that his manhood was being stripped away from him. Being called by his mother's name, put in women's clothes, twittered at like he was the same stupid bird his father was, as if he would respond like he were one. He knew he was a boy, knew that he would become a man, so why was he always viewed as a woman? Why couldn't his own father call him "son?" He wanted to grasp at the man he knew he was as it faded away, wanted to push away the woman his father was trying to force him to become. But you can't catch a phantom, you can't touch an emotion, can't bottle up reality. And when he realized that, it opened his eyes to the fact that another person could create all of the things he couldn't capture and push them onto him, transform him like a terrible disease or a crippling condition; shove it inside of him to be born unwanted at a later date, like a child of rape.

And when that child was born, if he couldn't smother it, then he would destroy all of who he was and raise and nurture his destiny with his own hands. He would become its "mother," like Itachi said he must, and never allow its "father" to be the instigator of the change. He would be the one to end his suffering and embrace the easy path of being who he was dictated to be instead of being dragged by his feet down that very same trail with his face dragging behind in the dirt. Maybe the blueprints for the structure of his future would be drawn by an architect different from himself, but at least Sasuke would be the one to take that step off the old scaffolding.

"Mikoto!" Fugaku said in exasperation. "Did you even hear a word I just said?"

Sasuke came back to his senses, all of his resolution dissipating with the appearance of his father's unsatisfied face. _So unhappy_, Sasuke thought. Such a righteous expression the old man had on, as if he had a reason to be indignant, without even having to fight to earn it. Without suffering anything, he was mad at Sasuke—no, "Mikoto"—who was bearing the weight of everything.

_What's wrong?_ Sasuke thought._ Why aren't you happy?_

"You're supposed to be helping me. I can't repeat everything over and over just because you weren't paying attention, you know," Fugaku said.

Somewhere in the back of Sasuke's mind a far distance away from where the razor whispered sweet, seductive words, sharp and curled inward, a hook caught in his heart, pulling him towards it; somewhere far from that twisted bait, he understood his father. He knew that the frustration taken out on him was because of loneliness, because there was no one else to entrust it to. A sliver of Sasuke's conscience knew that even the women's clothing on his fragile body would not comfort his father, and pitied him a little. But everything else that Sasuke was wanted to fight him, scream at him, demand just what the hell was wrong with him, and his resolve to change himself because its coming was inevitable shattered. He wished so greatly that he could pick up one of the shards and cut to death the man in front of him. But you can't catch a phantom, you can't touch an emotion, can't bottle up reality …

"Why won't you smile at me, even when I'm wearing this stupid dress?" Sasuke exploded suddenly as he stood up from his chair. Coming out of his throat, the words felt like vomit, emerging from a stomach sick and needy, desperate for a "Mikoto" of his own, a shoulder to cry on, which he would never find from his father. And yet he was so hungry for a shoulder that he didn't care anymore for crying over it—he only wanted to take a big bite and swallow it whole, carry it safely in his belly until it died away in his gut. As he left the room, the stupid chair, the stupid talk, and the stupid man in it, whose shocked gaze followed him out, Sasuke wondered if he could crane his neck far enough to eat his own arm, and for about two seconds, he almost gave it a try. Then he told himself not to be an idiot, and charged off to his room, locking himself in it before crawling directly into bed.

And as he realized this, he thought of how pointless it was to struggle, but how good it felt to finally do so. Knowing that feeling now, finally, his fight became more than useless. Maybe by only a little, but when a blade of grass could still match his pinky finger in height, a little was a lot.

He did not visit the razor that night. Instead, he fell into an uneasy slumber, luxurious in comparison to the sleepless nights he had spent wondering to himself who he was and what he should do up until that point. At least now he had everything partially figured out, and had decided on how he would proceed. And he was determined to follow that path, for better or for worse, for ignorant or for knowledgeable, no matter what evidence against it might be revealed in the future.

**(XXX)**

"_Teme_," a voice whines in my ear, bringing me back to reality. "Wake up, will ya'?"

I groan and keep my forehead glued to the picnic table, hoping he will let me finish my thoughts in peace. I feel a hand grip my left shoulder suddenly and my whole side convulses once before I am able to get control of my arm and slap his hand away.

You know when you go to a restaurant and look at the menu and decide to order an item you hate just to see if it tastes different? Have you ever bought the DVD to a bad movie because you forgot how bad it really was? Or have you ever hung out with a friend despite knowing how annoying and loud he is, how much you'll disagree with each other, and how angry at him you'll be when you crawl into bed after you get home? For me, in this case, it's the third one.

Naruto shrinks back, looking wounded, lapsing into solemn silence as he sips his drink noisily through the straw. The logo on the cup belongs to a greasy fast food restaurant he made us stop at earlier for lunch before we headed out here to the park. I feel kind of bad for him. My body reacts violently to sudden physical contact, because even though I was never really sexually abused, sometimes I still have haunting nightmares about what it would've been like. They disturb me so much that I can't stand someone touching me without my direct permission. A few kids who had been playing ball just a few moments earlier have frozen in place and started staring at me, eyes wide at my outburst. I do admit that seeing him with that whipped expression is priceless, but … in the end, he really didn't deserve the shock I gave him.

"Sorry about that. It's a reflex," I assure him lamely. I'll say sorry just this once.

"Don't apologize," he muttered, glaring at the kids with an irritated look that said "mind your own business." They promptly ran off and resumed ignoring us in light of their game. "You probably liked seein' me jump."

"True enough, I guess," I say carelessly, figuring the storm has blown over.

I still hate this kid, though. He's a loud, obnoxious dumbass who bugs me to treat him to ramen whenever we're out somewhere together. I wouldn't even hang out with him if it weren't for Kakashi-sensei's badgering. I hate him even more than Naruto. But what I really hate is that they both think they understand me, and have the gall to act superior. The only words I can seem to hear coming out of their mouth when they try to convince me that I'm not investing my time in a load of bullshit is basically, "You'll benefit from spending time with us. Trust us, we know what you need better than you ever could." Who the hell do they think they are?

Naruto finally puts down that drink of his so I don't have to listen to his slurping anymore. After a moment's pause he swings around to talk to me, his hand stretching outward, which knocks the cup over and spills everything all over himself. He leaps out of his seat and holds up the end of his damp shirt in dismay. "Aw, shit!"

"I told you to bring napkins, idiot," I inform him with a dull tone, because I'm much more interested at what I'm seeing under his shirt. It looks like there's an orange, spiral-shaped tattoo on his stomach, right around his navel. I can't believe Iruka-sensei would let him get a tattoo.

As I'm about to taunt him, the kids from before beat me to it. They're standing at a distance, laughing at him. One of the boys in the group says loudly, "Ew, you wet yourself!" He points to Naruto's pants, which have also gotten soaked.

"What? No! I didn't!" Naruto growled out, forgetting his shirt for a moment.

"You did!" the boy guffawed, then said it again, starting up a chant in which all the children joined in, yelling in singsong tones "You did, you did!"

"I have to say, it's hard to deny the evidence," I say, gesturing towards his lower half.

"Shut the hell up, teme. You're not helping," he snarls before baring his teeth at the children, who back up a little at his ferocious look but are still giggling uncontrollably.

He curses again and runs off. I pull myself from my seat and try to run after him. This is not good. If he gets lost, what the _hell_ am I going to say to Kakashi-sensei? "Hey, Naruto, wait up!" I shout. "Naruto, stop! _Naruto_!"

I'm barely able to keep up with that head of blonde hair swerving through scattered trees and bushes as he darts onto one of the nature trails. I try to speed up so I don't lose him in the woods, but I almost trip as I'm yanked to a halt by my skirt. I crane my head to see what I'm caught on and the playful face of a blonde girl disappears off to the side, out of my range of sight. She's one of the kids from the park, one of the ones that laughed at Naruto and chased him off in the first place.

"Come on, I don't have time for this!" I cry. I try to pull her off of me but her grip tightens, strong enough that I know the cloth will rip if I give a good yank.

She laughs at me with an innocent expression, pressing her cheek into my thigh as she attaches herself to my leg. "Are you a girl?" she inquires curiously.

"If I say yes will you leave me alone?" I grind out, trying to peel her fingers away without hurting her.

To no avail. "You're not a girl," she says proudly as if she's learned a great secret even I haven't figured out yet. "So why do you wear a dress?"

"It's a skirt," I correct her. She's not happy about being told she got the word wrong, characterized by the deep frown on her face. "And because I _want_ to."

"It's a _dress_," she said persistently. "Why do you want to?"

I groan loudly and pick her up, then run in the direction Naruto was headed before I lost him. The child becomes a squealing mass of writhing limbs in my arms, and I think to myself that someone is going to arrest me for being a kidnapper, but I discard that worry in light of the need to find Naruto. But where did he go? I don't see him anywhere out here. The path is starting to branch off in other directions. Which one did he take?

_Come on, think clearly!_ My mind screams at me. _If you were Naruto and you had just spilled something all over you, been taunted by children, and run off into the woods, where would you go?_

… Wasn't there a river around here somewhere?

That's right. I went there once with my foster father the first time I visited this park to fish. If I remember correctly, it was right near the entrance to the trail. We pushed through a small gap in the brush to the left of the path and then threaded through the trees, going straight until we reached a clearing right on the edge of the riverbank. I carry the girl with me, holding her close to my chest to protect her from any twigs that could scratch her, and she stops moving long enough for me to get us under the low branches of the trees beyond and out to the river. I look up and down along the riverbank, trying to find Naruto, and eventually spot him further upstream, standing waist-deep in the river, his shoes off to the side.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask him, approaching as he is climbing out onto the shore. Before he gets a chance to answer the girl starts squirming again, so I set her down.

"I'm telling my mommy! And she's gonna call the police to come take you away!" she squeals at me, looking like she's on the verge of tears. I try to keep my annoyance in check so I don't start yelling at her.

"Be quiet," I plead with her. "You were the one who wouldn't let go of me. I'll take you back to your mommy, or wherever the hell you wanna go, but for now please just shut up."

"No you won't!" the child whines, tears filling her eyes.

"I will!" I assure her in a desperate tone. "I promise!"

She sniffles and wipes her eyes. "… Really? You promise?"

I sigh in relief. At least I kept her from crying. "Yes. I promise. So don't cry, okay?"

"Yeah," Naruto says as he pulls off his shirt and dunks it into the dirty water, scrubbing it with his calloused fingers. The water has already made him wet and muddy from the waist down, so I'm not sure why he thinks washing the rest of his clothes in the river is a good idea. "Sasuke may be a total bastard, but he does keep his promises."

"What's a bastard?" the girl asks him, suddenly curious. Oh boy. I hope we didn't just teach her a word her mom will be very unhappy to hear.

"What were you doing, you idiot?" I ask him, trying to change the subject by reiterating the question from before. "Don't you know that's just going to make it worse?"

"Well, it's better than me lookin' like I pissed myself," Naruto retorts sharply. I beg him in the inner depths of my mind to keep his foul mouth to himself from now on. Or at least until we're sure that we won't have to face this child's mother after we return to the park.

"You could at least tell me where you're going before you run off like that," I say, giving his tone right back to him. "At the end of the day, I'm the one who has to answer to Kakashi-sensei if you get lost under my supervision."

"You don't gotta supervise shit!" Naruto shouts. "I ain't a damn little kid, you mother—"

"Naruto! Talk like a civilized person, will you? We have some very impressionable company," I say, pointing at the girl with my chin. He seems to get the hint now, and cools down a little. Thankfully she doesn't seem to be paying much attention to what we've been saying. She's more interested in Naruto and his tattoo.

She crawls up into his lap and scratches at the ink with her small fingernails, as if she thinks it'll come off in her hand. "What's this?" she asks him.

He pauses in his work to look down at her to see what she's talking about, but instead finds she's already moved on from his stomach and is now more interested in the whisker marks on his cheeks. She pinches them, tugging them outwards, ignoring his cries of pain. "Are you a kitty-cat?"

"No!" He peels her fingers away and sets her down next to him, out of the way. "Stay there and stop movin', will ya'? I'm doing something right now."

She listens to him for about all of ten seconds, until she notices his underwear is sticking out over the edge of his pants. When she decides to help him by pushing the fabric down to match his jeans, only succeeding in pulling the whole array down further, he yelps and removes her again. His face reddens in embarrassment as he stands, picking her up and handing her to me. "Go take her back, Sasuke-teme! She's trying to strip me!"

I snort and before I can stop myself, I feel my response tumble forth from my mouth. "Just tell her she needs to put a twenty in your belt before she gets to see anything else."

Caught off-guard as much as I am, he stares at me for a moment wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He starts to laugh but then takes forceful control of his reaction, his face tight with the effort not to burst into laughter. "I-I'm serious," he says. "Take her back. We could get in trouble for having her around, too, and I don't need that kind of mess on my hands."

"Fine," I say, taking her from him. "Say goodbye to Naruto, little girl, it's time for you to leave."

She waves at him. "Bye-bye, Naruto," she says. If only she would have obeyed me like this in the first place.

"Finish up what you're doing here by the time I get back," I tell him. "After this is over you'll really need to get home and take a shower."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, brushing away my order with a wave of his hand. He sits down and dips the soaked shirt back into the current.

What an ungrateful guy. The only reason I bothered with the child was because I had to bring her along to find out where he was. And now that he wants me to take her back, he can't even ask politely? Sheesh.

We wind our way back through the trees, then squeeze once more through the bushes, and I lead her out to where I saw her friends playing before. They're all still there, not seeming to have noticed that she disappeared. "Go on, now," I tell her. "And stay away from strangers, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah," she says, imitating Naruto with a giggle. "But what're you going to do now, mister? Are you gonna leave?"

"Yes," I reply. "Naruto's dirty and needs a bath."

"Huh." She pauses, looking thoughtful. "You gonna come back?"

_Not if I can help it,_ I think to myself, but to instead I say, "Maybe." She asked that question like she _wanted_ us to come back. To be honest, I don't think Naruto will be too keen on returning to play with her, considering how she and her friends all made fun of him. "Now go."

"Okay," she responds, seeming to be satisfied, though with what, I'm not too sure. "Well, bye-bye, mister!"

She runs off and is reunited with her friends. She's probably well on her way to happily recounting her adventure as I turn and head back to the river. If I never have to see her again, I really couldn't care less.

As I make my way over to Naruto, I see him hunched over, fiddling with something, his shirt lying forgotten at his side. It looks absolutely disgusting. Its original bright orange color has turned an ugly orange-brown color, like a rotten pumpkin.

"Congratulations, Naruto: that is the nastiest T-shirt I've ever seen. Now get up and let's get going."

His head jerks up as soon as I start talking and his fingers fumble to try and put away whatever he was messing with. "Oh, right. 'Kay."

"What are you _doing_, usuratonkachi?" I ask. I feel like it's the thousandth time I've had to ask him this question today. I walk over and bend down to look at him. "Let me see what's in your hands." I hold my hand out for him to put it in my palm.

"Why?" he says, still trying to put it away.

I can feel my eyebrows knotting. "Naruto, give it to me," I demand, reaching for the object in his hands. He leans away, not letting me see what it is. "Damn it, Naruto, what's wrong with you? Just let me see the damn thing!" When I try to lunge forward and grab it from him, he leans back even further, pushing me away with a muddy foot.

What the hell is he trying to hide from me?

I get down on my knees and wrestle him to the ground, but he won't even let me catch a glimpse of what's in his closed fist. I'm really getting mad now. I know we're not great friends, and we jab at each other a lot, but does he really hate me so much that he can't humor me a little?

Just as I'm about to pry open his fingers, he fires a dead-on shot with his foot at my crotch, and almost immediately a crippling pain shoots through my body. My breath leaves me and I automatically fold in on myself, holding the afflicted area as a few spots dot my vision. I try to curse, but the only sound that leaves my throat is a squeak, followed by something that sounds kind of like a death rattle.

"Oh man, that had to hurt," Naruto says in an apologetic tone, seeming to be just as shocked as I am at his sudden attack.

"No shit!" I manage to gasp out now that the pain has receded a little.

Naruto sits up and leans over me, reaching out to try and help me, although how he thinks he could help, I have no fucking idea.

"I'm really sorry!" he says, and I believe it, because I don't think he's ever intentionally tried to hurt me before. He puts his hands on my shoulders, tugging me upwards gently. "Can you sit up?"

I feel something small and hard on my shoulder underneath Naruto's palm and know that it's the object he was trying to hide from me. I quickly grab his wrist and snatch the item away then sit up and look at it before he can try to get it back. It's small and wooden. I turn it over in the air, trying to find anything objectionable about it. A thin line of silver protrudes out of one of the sides, and as I eye it, I feel the color drain out of my face.

_Is that what I think it is?_

I pull on it and my suspicions are confirmed when the blade of a small pocket knife emerges from what I now understand is the handle. All of my pain melts away and is replaced with horror as I look over at Naruto, who is just as pale as I am. Well, as much as he can be with how tan he is. He casts his eyes toward the ground as I hold out the knife and point it in his direction.

"Care to tell me what the hell is going on here, Uzumaki?" I say in a tone filled with gravelly anger. He refuses to answer, and tries to stand up so he can leave, but I push him back down with my free hand. "Answer me."

"Ah, w-well, you see … I, uh …" He swallows hard and stares at me as I wait for him to get on with it. "I just … ya' know …"

"Naruto, if you don't start making sense here in about two seconds, I am gonna stab you to death," I say, and at the moment, he's driving me crazy enough for me to actually consider doing it.

He gets the message. "Well …" He rubs the back of his head. "Um, you remember when I told you to take the girl back?

"Of course I do, idiot."

"And you remember how you stood up and took her from me?"

"Yes."

"And you saw me sit back down?"

"_Naruto!_"

He holds his hands up surrender. "W-well, when you started walking away, I looked up to watch you two go, and … well, from that angle, I could …" He cleared his throat and looked away, face reddening. "I could see some things."

My face grows hot with anger and embarrassment. "What the hell does that have to do with this knife?!" I explode.

"Well you should know better than me what you did down … down there!" he yells, looking more ashamed by the second. "I wasn't even trying to look or anything, but once I saw, you know, I … got … curious."

"Curious?!" I scream. The last person I want curious about my body is this idiot! "What the hell, Naruto?! You're fucked up!"

"I just wondered how it would feel, okay?! I mean, you do it all the time!" He grits his teeth and begins to stand up as I stare at him, confused. "Those marks were definitely fresh," he mutters to himself.

With that, it all comes flying together, including Naruto and I.

I yank him back down to my level by his waist, and I come in close before he can push me away, pulling at his jeans. He holds onto them for dear life, preventing me from getting them down.

"_Dude!_" he shrieks. "First that little chick and now you! Get off me!"

"Let me _see_!" I growl at him, fumbling to try and move his hands. I push my elbow into the crook of one of his and push hard until his fingers slip and his whole arm is shoved out of the way. Taking advantage of that split-second opening I pull open the front of his pants and spot something that shoves a firecracker down my throat and into my stomach, where it explodes, setting my guts on fire.

It's a sliver of red. Only a sliver, I know. I realize that it's not that big of a deal.

And yet I still can't help but blow up along with the fireworks it has started inside of me.

Before I realize that I've pulled my arm back in preparation, like a slingshot my fist hurtles into the side of his face so hard that it knocks him flat on his back. I climb on top of him as he holds his cheek in pain, screaming in agony, and just as he begins to beg me not to, I punch him again, and again, and again. He holds up his arms to defend himself after the second blow, which absorb the impact of each successive strike until bruises start to rise up. Then, while keeping one arm held up as protection, he deals me a swift blow to the jaw, knocking me off balance enough that he can shove me away. He jumps up and breaks into a run, trying to escape, but it's not long before I'm up and giving chase. I run him down like the dog he is, tackling him to the ground.

Now he's whole-heartedly struggling with me, clawing and striking at me like a frenzied animal caught in a trap, and I'm fighting him just as earnestly. A part of me can hardly believe that I'm really fighting with him. I'm a hypocrite, because while I'm beating Naruto to a pulp for cutting himself, I myself revisit the razor in my bathroom a few times a week when my foster parents aren't looking.

But nowadays I have a _reason_ for it. I _need_ it now. Before, I hurt myself because I was afraid—afraid of the changes going on inside myself, afraid of the person instigating them, afraid of the future, and afraid of the world. If I could obliterate at least a part of me, a part of my responsibility to myself and others, I thought it was worth the sting and slice of a blade against my tender skin.

I still rely on the razor now, but not because I am afraid. No, not anymore. Now it is a reminder of _him_ and the blood that he spilt. Blood that is mine, although it doesn't flow through my own veins. It is to remind me that I share his blood, and that someday I will feel it between my fingers. What I search for with my knife in present times is not myself, but the simple joy of knowing his blood will boil in the fires of Hell, and I will be the one to stir the pot.

So forgive me, Naruto. I don't want to hurt you. I just want to destroy everything of my past and everyone in it, and your innocence is too much of a reminder of the naïveté that gave me the courage to cut away the pieces of me until only red was left. And now I have to take all my anger out on you until there is nothing remaining of the boy from so long ago, the me that I am ashamed of.

I will beat the vision of him out of your eyes until we both can't remember why you cut yourself in the first place.

**(XXX)**

"You killed your parents?" Kisame said incredulously, although his face was twisted up in a knowing grin as if he'd expected it from the start. "That's hardcore."

Itachi turned away from the window he was standing next to and looked at Kisame sitting on the bed on the opposite side of the hotel room with his legs swung over the edge. He raised his eyebrow as if he couldn't believe Kisame just said "hardcore" and was met with shoulders that shrugged in amused agreement. "There's nothing 'hardcore' about it," he snorted. "It's not like I did it for my own benefit."

"But still … killing them for some little runt?" Kisame lit up a cigarette and took a long drag, expelling the smoke in one long breath. He watched it rise slowly to the ceiling. "I understand he's your brother, but that wasn't worth the backlash. And I doubt they did anything that merits death."

"Try telling that to a young teen who had spent years watching his brother cut himself to shreds because of them," Itachi countered. "I'm not saying that the actions I took were right or intelligent—I'm just telling you why I did what I did." He leveled a steady, slightly accusing gaze at his partner, who was tapping the edge of his cigarette on the ashtray near the bed. "Remember, you're the one who asked me to divulge this information in the first place."

"I know," Kisame said, laughing a little. "I'll try not to complain." He took another drag and held his breath, letting the smoke circumvent the insides of his lungs before he blew it out and said in a sarcastic tone strained by the burn of tobacco, "I'm sure little otouto appreciated your efforts."

Itachi had already turned back to the window, and it was good that he had, so that Kisame couldn't see the hateful yet pained gaze that stared out into the moonlit city, wondering if his brother was out there somewhere, his thoughts still fresh with memories of the blood of his father on his aniki's face. He chose not to answer, leaving Kisame to enjoy a triumphant silence.

_They died in a suitable way, really,_ Itachi thought to himself. He could almost feel the hilt of the katana heavy in his young hands again, a family heirloom passed down for generations. Fugaku had sworn it was only for decoration, but Itachi knew better. He'd seen his father armed with it, haunting the halls during the few nights when he'd been awakened by a loud sound, thinking there was someone trying to break in. _All I did was follow his example,_ Itachi thought cynically. Fugaku knew better than to break into Sasuke's world and try to take all he was, leaving emotional murder in his wake. _All I did was protect our family from a thief._

He could almost remember how it felt when the blade sliced cleanly through the flesh of his father's chest. The wound was angry, red, and gushing, like Itachi's emotions and Sasuke's waist. He'd never felt greater relief in his life. And he was lucky that their mother was home that night—for once—because you couldn't leave any loose ends, could you? With his sword, Itachi asked her accusing questions without listening for any answers; "Where were you? Who were you with? Why couldn't you just come home?" In response, his Houdini of a mother, adept at disappearing into thin air, performed her last trick, and vanished forever.

"_Why, Aniki?" Sasuke asked. His vomit mingled with small, spattered bloodstains on the floor, fat tears rolling down his chubby cheeks, his horrified eyes begging to be given a reasonable explanation, to be told it was all a dream. "Did you really hate them that much?"_

Itachi remembered watching warm, red blood drip down cold, silver steel, falling to the floor in drops every few minutes like the leaky faucet his father just couldn't seem to fix. And he remembered the pause, a hesitation in his answer as he made the decision that, no, he didn't hate his parents. He just loved Sasuke too much.

Kisame began to put his cigarette out. "Well, I'm gonna hit the sack."

For a few moments, Itachi was quiet. "I told him," he said slowly, startling Kisame who was climbing under the covers, "that I did it just because I could."

Kisame gave the back of Itachi's head a long stare, almost pityingly so. He didn't respond, which was the right thing to do, because Itachi didn't want a response. He just wanted to speak his mistakes to himself, and not be made to regret having made them.

"_I wanted to test my abilities," Itachi told his confused little brother, who curled up in a ball and began to babble to himself once the impact of Itachi's words hit him. Itachi continued on in a tone cold as rocks in a cool river, slowly stoning Sasuke's senses to death. "Mother and Father were very talented fighters in their day. But I guess they got a little rusty as time went on. It took barely any effort at all to kill them."_

"_That's …!" Sasuke choked, his body trembling as a fresh wave of hate and fear rolled over him. "You monster! Weren't they your family?!"_

"_That's right. Hate me. Detest me," Itachi said in a coldly approving voice as he faced Sasuke, his answer indirect and cruel, clutching his weapon as if he might strike him next. In the blink of an eye Sasuke shot up and ran out of the room, out of the house, and out of his old life, fear of death forcing his legs to run until they gave out._

Grow strong. Rise up and use your power to overcome me: your fear and your hate. Only then can you rid yourself of the painful memories that plague you; only then can you rid us both of it.

_If only you could just …_

Without another word, Itachi slithered into bed, keeping his face turned away from Kisame, eyes glued to the small section of night sky still visible from the window. He accepted the sudden darkness with appreciation when Kisame turned out the lights and the sound of him shifting in his bed stopped as he muttered a barely-audible "Night."

Itachi stared for a long time out into the starry black of a world asleep, waiting until he was sure Kisame was asleep and snoring before he gratefully responded, "Goodnight."

**(XXX)**

Kakashi stared for a long time at Naruto's puffy face as Iruka tended to the boy's wounds, his cloth-covered mouth seeming to open and close, gaping like a fish as he struggled for words. He looked over at Sasuke who was sitting in the armchair, dutifully avoiding his gaze. Kakashi was beginning to speak, his tone unpleasant, when Naruto interjected.

"Don't worry, Kakashi-sensei," he said. "We worked it out."

"Naruto, fighting doesn't solve anything," Iruka reprimands him sternly.

For once Naruto opposed him, unflinching in his retort. "We worked it out," he said firmly, no room for argument in his voice. Everyone in the room was visibly surprised, even Sasuke.

"Care to tell me just how you think you can justify _this_?" Iruka said angrily, tugging on one of Naruto's bruised cheeks, earning a shriek of pain. "And what is this 'we?' Looks to me like it was a one-sided discussion." He glared at Sasuke, who sank deeper into his seat.

Sure, if you judged by looks, it looked like Sasuke had just gone postal on Naruto, but in reality he was no worse for wear than the guilty-looking raven-haired boy sulking across from him. The only difference was that while Sasuke seemed to have no qualms about completely busting up Naruto's face, after his first punch fired in retaliation, the blue-eyed nut-job intentionally put himself at a disadvantage by only aiming for areas away from the face, which was difficult when your enemy was right on top of you most of the time, either pinning you down or rushing you so it was hard to get enough space for an effective shot. Sasuke was grateful because it meant he could hide his injuries from his foster parents and avoid getting in trouble for getting into a fight, but he also felt insulted, as if Naruto thought he couldn't go all out. And more than anything he just wanted to shoot the kid. That blonde idiot made Sasuke chase him all over the park, haul a small child back and forth, and then got him in trouble with Mumsy and Pops, all in the same day as one of the therapy group sessions. He _really_ hated this kid.

Although he had to admit that whaling on Naruto for a while did wonders for him that no therapy ever could have.

"It was my fault anyway," Naruto said, a twinge of pain in his admission. "Please, Iruka-sensei, let it go. I got what was coming to me."

As he looked up at Iruka pleadingly, it was immediately clear that Iruka had lost the battle, even though his expression made it seem as if he were still struggling. Even Sasuke felt that Naruto was giving the most damning puppy-dog eyes he'd ever seen.

Iruka sighed gruffly and stood. No words needed to be said—as he walked into the kitchen, muttering with irritation something about making some tea, everyone knew that he'd conceded defeat. And even though Naruto had saved Sasuke from what could have been quite a terrible fate, when Kakashi followed Iruka into the kitchen Sasuke received a look that told him a certain black-eyed acquaintance was not very happy with him.

"I'm not expecting you to say sorry," he said. "But if you ever do that again, you'll be apologizing on your back as I beat you shitless."

A shudder went up Sasuke's spine at the tone of Naruto's voice, although he refused to let his face show it or speak his acknowledgment. But it was just as Naruto had said—he didn't expect Sasuke to say he was sorry, so he wasn't miffed when his threat went seemingly unnoticed.

"This eye ain't gonna look pretty come meeting time, though," Naruto sighed, sinking back into the couch. He closed his eyes, the swollen one twitching and undulating slightly as if it were a living thing, and that made another shiver travel the length of Sasuke's stiff neck, this time in disgust. He hoped that Kakashi wouldn't make him stand trial for his actions before a jury of his soon-to-be peers, both of them people that he hadn't gotten along entirely well with. After a few moments Naruto cracked his good eye open to look Sasuke up and down. "… There is one thing I wanna know."

Sasuke looked at him guardedly, wishing to leave the subject alone for a while. "Why I beat you?"

"No, I already know that," Naruto said. "What I wanna know is why you it made you want to. Why you got so mad that you had to maul me."

Sasuke felt his eye twitch in discomfort and he looked around cautiously, as if someone might be listening. The walls had ears—especially in Kakashi's home. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Look, Naruto, I don't want to talk about that right now." And in response to the heart-wrenchingly discouraged look he received in return he grudgingly ground out, "Maybe later. When it's just you and me, and no Kakashi-sensei, no Mother Iruka, and no little finger-pointing kids."

Naruto looked like he could live with that. He turned away, looking at the front door now. "You know they're gonna want you to say it tonight anyway. They'll want us all to introduce ourselves with our own individual sob-stories." Naruto grinned at him tiredly.

"I assure you," Sasuke said, "you'll be the only one I tell." He owed it to Naruto to tell him, and Kakashi had designated them to share secrets with each other anyway. But he would not just hand out his troubled past like a business card to anyone he met.

Appreciation flickered across Naruto's features, the spark it ignited once more bringing life to the dying embers of mutual tolerance. He didn't respond, which was the right thing to do, because Sasuke didn't want a response. Later, in Naruto's presence, he would speak his mistakes to himself, and would not be made to regret having made them.

For now, the return of Kakashi eliminated any possibility of continuing the conversation. Naruto turned around as he walked in, searching his face. "How is he?"

Kakashi chuckled at the irony of his question. "Aren't you the one in questionable condition?" Naruto gave him a light-hearted smile of sorts, putting his heart at ease a little. "He's worked up. I think I managed to calm him down a little, but it's quite possible that tonight after the session is over he'll have a few choice words to say with you."

"I figured," Naruto said. He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "I've never been in serious trouble with him before. What do ya' think he's gonna do to me?"

"Skin you and hang you in the nearest meat locker," Kakashi answered without hesitation. When met with a shocked expression his eyes curved to show the boy his famous smirk, making it hard to know whether he was serious or not. "Let's not worry about that now. The others will be here soon. Sasuke, please think about how you're going to introduce yourself, and Naruto, you think about how you're going to explain that big old shiner."

They both groaned at him. Paying their protests no mind, he jogged up the stairs, leaving them to percolate. Sasuke contemplated how he would answer questions about his past, knowing he'd have to dance around them carefully. And Naruto listed in his mind all the various sleeper-holds he'd have use on Kiba to keep him from becoming a murderer.

**(XXX)**

**A/N: **FINALLY FINISHED! Lawd 'ave mercy. Stayed up several nights to try and complete this one. I'm so tired. Hopefully this chapter didn't meander too much, but I figured having a few scenes where Naruto got the crap beaten out of him by Sasuke would help set the tones of their personalities a little more. And on that note, hopefully Sasuke is a little more like Sasuke this time around.By the way, the part where Sasuke is uh … you know … cuttin' up his ting-ting was my own idea, but is also similar to another fanfiction where he does the same but because he was gay and called a freak because of it. I wouldn't suggest reading the fic, I was just sharing disturbing facts with you (I also kinda just wanted to use the term "ting-ting." Was all of that in bad taste?). Let's pray all of this wasn't a waste of your time. I think next time around I'll do a shorter extra chapter focused on Kiba finally convincing Shikamaru to spill the beans about what happened to him. You'll know it's an extra because the word "extra" will be in the title. From time to time as I take breaks from the really long chapters I will write extras, such as the aforementioned, and things like how Shino and Hinata got together, or how Chouji and Ino got together, and then possibly little scenes from their relationships. Or maybe some fooling around with Kakashi and Iruka. Nevertheless, it will be carefree things of this nature, and most of the chapters will be irrelevant to the current direction of the series. Anyway, rate and review, share and favorite, blah, blah, blah. GO IN PEACE MY BRETHREN! *Face hits desk and the sound of snoring ensues*


	9. Full of Surprises: Extension

**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. NARUTO BELONGS TO MASASHI KISHIMOTO AND TV TOKYO. OR WHOEVER THE HELL THEY BELONG TO. THIS IS FOR FUN AND WRITING CRITIQUE ONLY AND NO PROFIT IS BEING MADE OFF OF IT. Please go and support the official release, though, all of you. I really do love this manga, as you can tell by my list of fics.**

**NOTE: **_**This is the extended version of chapter 9.**__ The chapter title already specifies this, but I don't want to be yelled at, so here is your notification. I've fulfilled my obligation, and am not responsible if you miss this note._

**The extension comes complete with a second section and some additional, simple, useless extra notes about the added material. If you've already read the first section, please move on, because nothing has been changed in the text before the page-break into the next section.**

ORIGINAL INTRODUCTION: Shorter, I know, but don't shoot me. I tried to make it more poetic and mysterious, so I hope you will like it. I know you've all been waiting for it, so I'm sorry if it's less than what you expected, but I really had a vision in mind for this, so … Anyway! Give me your thoughts and your criticism. I can take it, I promise. Also, requests are open as always. Please watch out for some of the new stuff I'll be publishing soon. Mostly one-shots. (Such as the Death Note fic "The Lucky Ones" and the Naruto fic "The Road to Commitment.") Enjoy what I have to offer.

**(XXX)**

The flowers were prettier that day than they had been in a long time. Petals sprinkled the ground that was finally given proper care in the last couple of weeks after enormous pressure from outraged parents and lost, forlorn children. Staring up at the trees, ominous and brooding, a darkness that swayed when the wind blew, though it would normally make him nauseas, was a horror that took backseat priority to his visit today.

Side by side on the green grass they sat as he twiddled blades of grass between his thumb and forefinger, careful not to pluck them from the ground, afraid to remove something else from the earth he'd learned to respect and value. He looked over to his companion, a sheepish smile on his face. "They say that when you pluck a flower, it feels the pain of being killed. Do you think that's true?" His voice was quiet and more serious than joking. He didn't receive a response, but he could feel mystic eyes upon his back and, laughing nervously he said, "I know, it was a horrible joke."

They sat together in silence for a while, enjoying the breeze, watching the sun gradually slip over the horizon, the warmth of their glorious lives crawling towards black oblivion. Noting the time and seeing how he'd spent several hours without saying a word and now time was running out, the man tapped his fingers on his knees pensively, wondering how he could sum up his life so far in a monologue that he could spit it out before it was time for him to be picked up. He scratched his head, knowing his companion would catch every tick, every nervous habit, and every sign of weakness. That person had always been able to do that.

The man rocked back and forth in time with the trees before him for a little while and then took in a deep breath, readying himself for a battle with words that he'd once lost long ago. Unlike that time, these words would be said. They had to. It was the only way to make things … right.

"Well, work sucks," He started off lamely, laughing a little at himself. "Now I know how poor families feel—I work two jobs and it seems like every time I turn around I need to add some hours. And coworkers are a real pain too, you know? They always want you to do stuff. And to do it on time. Can you believe it?"

His words were greeted with patient silence. A pause that waited for the man to finish skirting around his point.

"But I have a wife and son to think about though," The man said to himself with a bit of a smirk. "If it was just me at stake, things would be so much easier." He turned to his friend, taking in gray and silver tones. He wondered how the other could have grayed so fast. "But then again, if it was that easy … we wouldn't be here now, right? You were always making things hard, too."

A hint of a laugh carried along the current of an individual gust thrown wildly into their faces, but somehow it was still heard over Nature's mischievous puffs. "Those two …" The man continued, "Those two are just like you. They're so smart, but such idiots."

More silence ensued after this. Home shouldn't be talked about now, the man thought. I came here to escape that for a moment, to revisit a different painful memory with another difficult person. And then he asked himself, "Just why am I here again?" Sometimes he could forget why, get lost in the empty vacuum between his friend's thoughts and his vocal cords, forced to speak random, jumbled words and apologies to fill the void. Ah, he thought, the void. That is why I am here. To shovel feelings, lost opportunities, and promises into the emptiness left behind. It didn't matter if it was meaningless chatter, as long as that dark space disappeared for a little while.

"I see you in my dreams," The man said quietly. He swallowed hard and stared up into the sky. "With your eyes pinned to my soul. Are you watching me?"

Silence.

"Why?" He asked. "Do you kill the people in my dreams, too?" Tied to stakes, burned in the fires of Hell, sliced to death by the swords of loved ones and dreamers who also end up crucified in the end. What the hell kind of dream is that, he would think to himself. Why do you will me to see it?

But this was not what he wanted to say. His dreams didn't matter, and neither did the people who died in them. Neither did the broken body staring from the corners of his eyes on days when he was particularly tired, or when he forgot to take his medicine. No, this was not what he came here for, he reminded himself. Accusations and answers were both things that could be left unfinished.

"If I told you I opened up my own business, what would you do?" The man asked. He waited a few seconds until he was sure there was a lack of response. He became a little irritated. Sure, all of this was cannon fodder, but the least his life-long friend could do is listen to him. He tried to get him interested, saying, "I work with all kinds of people. People who see things that aren't there, people who create stories and other men and women to get along with. People that aren't right—people like us."

In that moment, the balloon was the first thing to pass before them. Then the child came along behind it, following it dejectedly. What was most likely a colorful souvenir of memories made at an amusement park or a fascinating trip to the town square was floating away before her eyes. And yet, for some strange reason, she didn't cry. Perhaps she'd seen it happen before. Or perhaps she thought it better to stay strong.

"Are you even listening to me?" The man asked. Sometimes he wondered if his words went unheard. He was probably an idiot for thinking that anything he said would have any effect whatsoever, but at the same time, there was no way he could have kept silent. It was a little too late, but everything had to be gotten out now. For the thousandth time since they started down their separate paths, he trudged back through the mud of his past and feelings so that, no matter if he should trip and sink into the marsh, a simple little phrase with such marvelous impact would be uttered gently by his lips.

"Rin is fine," He said, sighing to himself. "She's excelling in the medical field right now. In fact, I work with her a lot, and she's skilled at what she does. A valuable asset to the work force." He didn't want to mention Rin, but he knew his friend would want to know how she was doing. After all, she had been the reason things had gone so wrong, and he himself had been the enabler of the bad situation.

I should have come quicker. I should have moved faster. I should not have let myself slip up. If not for me, this wouldn't have happened, and if I had just told him before, I wouldn't come here with this regret. I would be able to face him with a smile, lessen the burden he has to carry as he moves towards the gates at the end of the road.

Would you still smile at me now, I wonder?

A tanned face peeked out from the trees and bushes from a ways away, yelling to the man, "It's time we got going." The man looked up and noticed that the sky had turned to night and the stars were laughing in heaven with the angels and the dead. "If we don't hurry, we'll have a hard time seeing the road on the drive home."

"Ah, yes, that's true," The man said. He stood and stretched, back popping. He turned and faced the large monument, his only true friend in those rows of flowers and browning grass. Taking a look at the K.I.A. engraving the fates of many into sharp letters for the world to see, he ran his fingers over a name about two-thirds down the front side of the granite.

"I miss you, Obito," He said softly. He hesitated for a moment and then pulled away. There was no more time for goodbyes or regrets now. He'd said what he needed to say, and that was that. He headed to the car with the one who'd come to fetch him.

"You drive, Iruka. I don't think I'm in a sane state of mind right now," He said frankly, laughing a little. The tanned man nodded and got into the driver's side.

"Will you be alright?" Iruka asked, earning himself a strange look from mismatched eyes that once met flickered immediately over to the window, watching the trees shadowing the place where he'd just come from.

"There's always next year," came his answer. And indeed, in a year he would return. By that time, more changes unnecessary to mention would arise to fill the void, to make him forget the reality of things.

They slowly passed the trees and the monument came into view, light reflecting off its surface as if a curt wave of goodbye. The man waved back with a slight smile, feeling a little better with the benefit of the few moments he was able to share with his dead comrade.

To bring him to life just one more time …

And every visit, he thought, I am one year closer to where I can simply join you instead.

**(XXX)**

Kakashi was Iruka's closest friend at that time. He was someone who could be trusted with problems in life because when compared to the melancholy atmosphere that clouded Kakashi's eyes during the time they spent alone together, Iruka's past and current troubles were made comfortingly miniscule. Even if that were not the case, Kakashi's humor, determination, and drive to help people gave him the strength to conquer an amplified workload of never-ending office work coupled with night school for _psychology_, of all things. Iruka couldn't imagine dedicating his life to exploring the dark recesses of the human mind. But Kakashi somehow did it, and enjoyed it, and other than a paycheck to help put food on his plate and a roof over his head—and in the past long months to do this for both him and his housemates—he didn't ask for anything in return. Iruka felt a great sense of admiration, and a greater sense of appreciation for his friend since they started living under the same roof.

But despite all this—bless Iruka's poor, straining heart—the ride home from the cemetery had been so damn _awkward_. In an uncharacteristic display, Kakashi had spent the drive staring solemnly at the window, gaze seemingly dismissing everything that passed as if the world around him were without meaning. Only once had Iruka disturbed his brooding to ask him what he was doing, and had received a response that sounded like: "Counting my heartbeats." He could not be sure, since the voice that answered had only just barely ghosted across the divide between the driver and passenger seat, not to mention the reply itself didn't make sense. Then again, Kakashi had a tendency not to make sense. And in the back of his mind, although he didn't want to admit it, he had a vague idea of what Kakashi's answer had meant.

Iruka knew before they even got home that Kakashi would want something to drink to help try and soothe some of the rough patches in his heart. He also knew Kakashi would either want alcohol or caffeine, both of which would be more like pouring salt into the wound, rather than relaxing. This was why after they made it inside the house and walked a straight, silent line into the kitchen, Iruka took away the cup of coffee Kakashi made hastily for himself in exchange for some hot tea. Kakashi glanced up, quickly lowering his gaze with a guilty look.

"Sorry," He said shortly. He inhaled deeply to clear his mind and loosen his chest. "I really am sorry, so …" He stared at Iruka, as if waiting for something.

Then Iruka suddenly realized just how rigid and tight his expression was, the muscles in his face suddenly tired from the intensity of his outward reaction. He relaxed, and some of the tension left his shoulders as well.

"I'm not mad at you, I'm just … concerned. The way you've been acting since we left kept me thinking."

"That so?" Kakashi asked, voice sounding empty and far away. "About what?"

Iruka frowned at Kakashi's lack of attention. "Even though we've known each other for a long time, and you're always telling me details about women and troubles at work that you don't seem to really care about, it feels like we don't know each other much at all."

That gradually brought Kakashi back to his senses, although the look in his eyes was still dull and blunted. He stared searchingly into the chestnut depths of Iruka's eyes, but didn't respond.

Leaning on his elbows, tired and hunched, Iruka continued. "Even before today, more than once I asked myself, 'How is he doing?' I figured, 'We're good friends. We know enough about each other to pinpoint when something is wrong.'" In his mind, he briefly relived the uncomfortable atmosphere of the ride home. "But … I guess that's wrong. I actually don't know anything about you, and because I haven't made steps to find out more, you also don't know anything about me."

"You know about my father's suicide," Kakashi countered.

"So the strength of a person's friendships should rely on only one issue?" Iruka said sharply. "Kakashi, I don't know where you come from, what your childhood was like, who your friends are, or what has happened to you before we met other than the fact that you went without your father for almost all of your life. If I did, I would know who you were visiting today, and would have paid my respects. But I can't even do that because you won't tell me anything other than which executive's secretary you took out for a night on the town this week."

Kakashi's eyes widened at the firmness and anger in Iruka's voice. His face registered a bit of hurt, which Iruka noticed and immediately tried to dispel.

"I don't mind talking about those kinds of things. I don't mind a carefree chat on break at work or even here in the middle of the night." He slammed his hands down on the table, making Kakashi jump. "But damn it, I _do_ mind this! You live in my house, pay half my bills, and tend to my child's psychological needs, and yet there's a wall between us that I can't see over. Not only do I feel like there's a stranger in my home, but I have to live with that person knowing that if I had a mind to, I could never help them, because I can't _understand_ them."

Iruka was not comfortable with where this conversation was going, but he was no longer comfortable being content with a friendship that, in too many areas, was superficial on his own part. He'd always shoved away the thought that something might be amiss with Kakashi, pushing it farther and farther into the back of his mind until it hit the back wall, and now he would be damned if he wouldn't kick himself for it with a pair of steel-toed boots. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a minute to collect his thoughts.

Kakashi, looking guilty again, began to speak. "Iruka, I—"

"I've buried a lot of secrets," Iruka interrupted. "And you've buried an old friend. I'm as much to blame as you are. I think it's time we both own up to the things we've been hiding from each other, or we can never make this work."

He received no response for what seemed like several minutes. But he could tell Kakashi was going to say something, so he held his tongue.

"… What are we trying to work out?"

Looking levelly at Iruka, Kakashi waited for an answer. His intensity was abnormal.

"Us," Iruka answered simply, after a few moments.

"What is '_us_'?" Kakashi enunciated clearly. They sat staring at each other silently.

When Iruka finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "… See? You don't know either."

He received a stare jam-packed full of horrible emotions—befuddlement, alarm, and disarm. But quickly, Kakashi turned incredulous. He sat back in his chair and threw up his hands. "Shit, Iruka." He rubbed his own forehead. "Shit!" He leaned forward again. "What the hell kind of conversation is this? I—"

Standing up, Kakashi paced around the room for a few minutes, every once in a while turning to face Iruka like he had finally cobbled together what he wanted to say, and each time having to return to shuffling his feet across the floor.

Eventually, he turned around for good. Then the words started tumbling out. "Does it matter that we don't know? No—" he stopped Iruka with a hand before he could interrupt, "no, that's not what I mean. I mean, about not knowing what 'us' is."

"… I don't catch your meaning."

Kakashi sighed irritably, turned like he was going to begin pacing again, but suddenly grabbed his chair and pulled it over with a violent clatter, turning the back of the chair so it was facing Iruka. He dropped into his seat roughly, resting his arms on the back of the chair, gesticulating with them as he began to talk.

"I think you're right about the first thing."

"The first thing?"

"The talking, damn it. Not knowing enough about each other. You're right about that."

"And how does that not tie into the 'second half?'"

"Because— Because—!"

Kakashi jumped out of his chair again, but managed to force himself to sit back down, fidgeting with his thick fingers.

"You're not the only one who doesn't understand. I don't understand a thing about you. Just when I think you're going to do one thing, you do another. Hell, I thought you were mad at me about my behavior today, but instead it seems like you're mad that you couldn't be there for me more."

With an embarrassed shrug, Iruka directed his attention to the far wall.

"You completely throw me off course," Kakashi continued.

"That's my line," Iruka muttered.

"And that's what's great about 'us,' whatever that might be," Kakashi said with such exasperation that Iruka finally turned his gaze back. "Everything … is a surprise. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's unpredictable." He jumped up again, this time staying on his feet. "I'll tell you, Iruka, one thing I know about you by now is that you want everything to be clear. You want to be able to predict and prepare for the future but _damn_ it, I don't want to know what's coming!"

Iruka stood up as well, irritation and insult written in the few creases on his face. "So you're content with being clueless?"

"Well let me ask you, Iruka, are you content with me showing up here in the middle of the night, making loud noises in your kitchen, on any given day?" While talking, as if he remembered something important, Kakashi walked backwards towards the fridge and opened it, rifling through the cabinets noisily. "You might expect me to show up during a certain week, but can you tell me exactly what day I will choose to come? Can you tell me the exact time? What do you want, a schedule?"

When Kakashi pulled out a couple of bottles of beer from the fridge, Iruka immediately grabbed them and put them back.

"I don't want that. That's too extreme. I just want to have a general idea of what we're getting into. I want to understand our friendship and where it's headed."

"You want to _change_ our friendship," Kakashi informed him flatly. He didn't wither when Iruka shot him a sizzling glare.

"Who said I wanted to do that?"

"You want to understand everything about us, to get it straight in your head." Kakashi grabbed the alcohol back from Iruka and walked back to the table. "You don't seem to realize that this alone can change a relationship indefinitely."

Sighing, Iruka closed the fridge and followed Kakashi, who popped the top off both bottles, and handed one to Iruka. "What do you mean?"

"Psychology is a study of the human mind and how it works," Kakashi stated. "If you understand the psychological reasons behind a problem a person is having, you can employ a remedy that will either solve the problem or at least make it a little more bearable."

"And?"

"The reason why therapy is effective is because when you've finally picked apart a person's brain and learned what you need to help them, it's easier to stop looking at them like a person. They suddenly become a spread-sheet. As a result, they don't feel so complicated anymore. The hardest part of being a therapist is turning that spreadsheet back into a person, and remembering you're dealing with a human being."

That gave Iruka pause. He thought about Naruto, Sasuke, Shikamaru, and Kiba. All of a sudden he wondered exactly how Kakashi was handling them, and secretly, whether or not Kakashi's methods would work if he could only view the children in his care as "spreadsheets."

Kakashi gestured at Iruka. "See? Things don't seem likely to work out, right?" He hit the table once with his fist. "It's the same with regular relationships. When you learn everything about another person, know what makes them tick, and they become predictable and easy to manipulate, they become a statistic. They lose their importance. And more to the point, they lose their intrigue."

"So … what you're saying is …" Iruka stared at him, a little disbelieving.

"What I'm _saying_ is—in the first place, I like that you're full of surprises. Even the bad ones. I don't want everything to be unexpected, but I want to be tossed around a little. I don't think that's a bad way to live, do you?"

Nobody said a word for a minute or so. Kakashi tapped his fingers erratically on the table, nudging the table legs nervously with his toes. His eyes were downcast, like the wind had gone out of his sails in the heartbeat between the end of his sentence and the uncomfortable silence that succeeded it.

"I just … want to know you better," Iruka concluded lamely, not knowing quite how else to explain himself. He let his mind wander off when Kakashi didn't respond.

Black and red eyes burned into a kitchen wall, making an invisible imprint with the colors of Hell. "… Nagoya."

"Excuse me?"

Kakashi cleared his throat. "I was born in Konoha, but was raised for a short period of time in Nagoya by my father. He'd moved there to get the two of us away from the constant ridicule of the other townspeople. We lived there until he killed himself, then I was taken back to Konoha by a friend of the family, and raised in their house. I never had a mother, and Dad never talked about my mother so I don't know anything about her. The person who raised me after Dad died was a man, too. I hardly even knew what a mother was for a long time. I dropped out of high school and enlisted in the army, since my father had been in the army before, and had been proud of defending his country. In the army I met my mentor and superior, Commander Minato, and my two life-long friends, Rin and Obito." Kakashi paused. "Minato died in an explosion while trying to evacuate all the soldiers when he found a bomb planted in our barracks. Obito was injured fatally protecting me from the blast. I lost my eye, but while Obito and I were in recovery, he had the medics do a transplant for me, donating one of his eyes. He died a couple of hours after the transplant was finished."

The words kept coming in a torrential downpour until Iruka, who sat stunned as his mind raced with this sudden onslaught of information, picked up his beer and swallowed half the bottle in one gulp. Kakashi stared at him wide-eyed, caught so off-guard that he lost track of his story.

"Let's just stop there for the night," Iruka's voice was thick with alcohol and discomfort. He realized he wasn't quite ready to bear the emotional brunt of all the things Kakashi was telling him, and preparing to tell him.

The silence he received was unsettling as ever. They both shifted in their seats, unable to find anything to break the tension. Iruka already regretted cutting off Kakashi so abruptly.

"Are you ever going to drink that beer?" He asked weakly. The change of subject brought their focus back. "I don't know why I treat you to drinks when you never pull down your mask long enough to drink them."

Now that he thought about it, even he had never seen Kakashi's face before. The drinks they shared had always been for show, and Kakashi never really drank them, or when he did, Iruka was out of the room.

Still, he had been mostly joking, hoping to spark a smirk or a deep, quiet chuckle. But instead Kakashi stared blankly at his beer bottle, and Iruka realized he'd taken the comment seriously.

"It was a joke, Kakashi," Iruka explained quickly. "I wasn't really complaining, just trying to lighten the mood a little—"

Kakashi grabbed his bottle briskly while hooking his fingers under the cloth of his mask.

And Iruka's jaw dropped to the floor as his friend peeled the mask away disdainfully, like dry skin, and downed the whole bottle of beer in one gulp.

**(XXX)**

**NOTES ON THE EXTENSION:** I love these two. They are my babies. This chapter is still a little bit shorter than normal, but it turned out a lot better than I originally thought it would. I tried to rely on simplicity and hints and context clues to give the effect I wanted this time. I also wanted to reveal some stuff about Kakashi and Iruka, while not just throwing everything at you all at once, and making it extremely dramatic or unrealistic. Tell me what you think. RHF Extras coming soon.

Original Note: I love me muh bittersweet. I hope you caught all the references to death I put in there. I know I sure did, because I feel cliché as hell. Hope this wasn't as sucky as the last chapter which made me wanna stab myself after I went back and read it again. I'll probably fix it later or something, since all this crap is editable. There are tons of small things I have to correct in earlier chapters anyway. Also, be on the lookout for extras I'll be doing as I periodically take a break from the main storyline. Rate, comment, review, or anything you like. And share, if you don't mind.


	10. Extra!: Falling

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Naruto and all its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto. No money is being made off of this. This is a non-profit project written only for fun and writing critique. Please support the Naruto series by purchasing the manga and/or anime. **

INTRODUCTION: I think it's finally time for an extra! Since I haven't done anything with Kiba as individual in a while, I've been trying to think up a one-shot for him. I haven't thought of anything yet, but the inspiration will come to me.

What I DID think of was the premise for an RHF Extra! I got to thinking about a previous fic consisting of three one-shots, "Just A Joke" (self-advertising ftw) and while groaning to myself about the melodramatic feeling of the last two, I thought about the last fic, which featured Kiba primarily, and decided to incorporate elements from that into this extra, and Kiba's RHF background in general. It's kind of dark, but kind of funny, too. And I like the idea of this chapter because it puts a positive spin on Kiba's depressing situation, and gives you some insight on his willingness to brave the issues in his life.

Please note that **this Extra is canonical**, while other Extras in the future might not be. **If I haven't specified that it's canon, don't assume.** The reason I put so much emphasis on this is that I don't want anybody's perception of the plot to be skewed by an Extra that was just done for silliness, or for anyone to misunderstand character relationships, etc. If you have questions about whether or not a certain Extra is canonical and it hasn't been specified in the introduction, please let me know and I will update the intro to include the necessary information.

**(XXX)**

Tripping over a curbstone while crossing the street, Kiba cursed himself. Several girls who had crossed with him giggled discreetly, the sound staying with him even as he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked red-faced around the next corner and out of sight. He was always falling. Not that his balance wasn't impeccable, just never at the right times.

Though he wished he could claim he liked girls, for the sake of his pride and mind both ruined by his reputation for being a "homo," he found chattering women too annoying to deal with. They were always talking about their hair, their nails, their clothes, their ass … whatever. And even though they talked about the _dumbest_ shit, they were still some of the craftiest witches on the planet. What with their methods of bullying and getting back at other people, and spreading secrets and rumors. Of course, the same thing happened with guys, but … With women, it was just like … a birth-right. And you might as well bend over and take it like a man, because there's no satisfying them, and therefore no getting around their wrath. Kiba would know, living with only his mother and sister every day.

He plodded down the street and eventually reached a large, arching bridge which led into one of the city's many lush parks. He stopped midway to look out over the pond splashing gently under the dingy-white wood beneath his feet.

He didn't necessarily hate women. He'd dated his fair share. Hell, one evening he and an old steady girlfriend had gazed over this very same bridge, holding hands as the moon and stars twinkled against the rippling pond. He'd damn near got into her panties that night, too, and he would have gone all the way if he could have. She wasn't a bad girl, either—she took care of him when he was sick, gave him affection in public, bought him incredibly thoughtful gifts on the holidays, and never lost her temper even when she was on her cycle and Kiba was on her nerves. Even his neurotic mother loved her.

But at some point he realized that dating a girl was less a privilege and more a status symbol. Whenever his friends asked him how far he'd gotten with her, he could boast about times when she let him do naughty things, and he wouldn't be lying. He could brag about how much she loved him, and point fingers at his loser, single buddies. Which was cool and all, but the nicer his girlfriend got, the more unsettled Kiba became. She started asking him questions about the future, and if he saw her in it. And when prompted to envision his future, he realized with a cold chill, that he really couldn't care whether she was in it or not.

When he told her the truth, she had the freedom of salvaging her pride by dumping him on his ass. He couldn't remember having another girlfriend after her.

Kiba pried himself from the view of the pond and walked through the park, which was an oasis of beautiful trees dropped square in the middle of a city getting bigger and more industrial every day to accommodate modern-day necessities. He watched a few children scuttle across a tiny playground to his right, and while his head was turned, a few more children shimmied right into his feet, tripping him, before running squealing away to the playground. He managed to catch himself before he could meet the dirt face-first, and growled at the faraway pack of kids, who were now giggling at him.

Kiba was always falling. He'd fallen into many things—holes, traps, and despair. Usually he bounced back unscathed, before he even hit the ground. But when he'd fallen in love, he found himself on a whole new playing field. Because when you fall in love, the descent never ends. There's no ground to hit, and no pavement to catch yourself on.

Only after love's fulfillment becomes impossible do you hit rock bottom.

And Kiba especially had been crushed between gravity and concrete. He spent what seemed like an eternity puzzling over the meaning of his feelings, and when he finally had them figured out, he was nearly beaten to death just for having them in the first place, beaten over a damn _emotion_, just because the person he loved was a boy. Just like that he'd been thrown straight back into perpetual confusion.

He couldn't even tell what love was anymore. He couldn't distinguish it from all the boiling hatred, overwhelming despair, and general nothingness he felt every day as he mentally relived the nightmares of his past. Forget about love: what was happiness, even? Was it the time he wasted trying to forget how fucked up he was, because of something that had once made him happy? How did he feel about Naruto, Shikamaru, Kakashi, Iruka, and Sasuke—the only people who could understand him? Did he "love" them? If so, in what way? Did they make him happy? And why?

However, he could still tell the difference between the good things and bad things in his life. Sasuke's indignant snorts, Naruto's brotherly hugs, Kakashi's crescent-eyed smiles, Iruka's thick fingers around a teacup, and Shikamaru's snores during class were all good things. But the things he wrote in his journals, as he struggled to keep his mind following one track, were bad. And contrary to what that brain-dead psychiatrist at the hospital claimed, Kiba's medicine wasn't making the bad things go away. In fact, nothing was. He had a sneaking suspicion he was actually getting worse.

He wondered what he looked like, switching from one personality to another, almost like changing masks. Most of all, he wondered how everyone looked at him when his back was turned.

Shaking these perturbing thoughts from his head he exited the park, heading straight for the mall. He had heard Shikamaru was a part-timer there at a clothing store. Kiba figured he could drop in. Well, unless Shikamaru had already been fired for taking naps in the changing rooms or something. That bastard was always so lazy. Maybe that was because he always seemed so tired.

"Well, I can relate," Kiba muttered with a sigh.

Since the weekend had already arrived, the area was bustling as usual, with kids from schools in several different districts. Part of him thought Shikamaru was ridiculous for wasting his weekends at work instead of hanging out like the kids who loitered in the food court, but knowing how exhausted that hunched boy looked when he dropped onto the sofa at therapy sessions, he probably needed the money.

Passing through the sliding doors of the mall entrance, Kiba kept his head low. He figured some Konoha kids were hanging around, and after the lunchroom fiasco where he jumped on a table and pronounced his sexual orientation, he was trying not to draw attention to himself. Quickly scooting across the peach-colored tile flooring, he boarded the escalator to the second floor. The stairs were more inconspicuous, but even more than garnering negative attention, Kiba didn't want to huff two flights of stairs just to make sure he wouldn't be seen. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he turned his gaze away from the teenagers on the escalator running downwards beside him. Shikamaru's workplace was supposed to be on the third floor, at some dinky little punk-rock store that sold apparel and terrible albums by nameless rockers. The thought of Shikamaru working the cash register with his uncaring expression, telling a rowdy, wannabe-punk to go fuck himself seemed oddly fitting, and made Kiba snort in amusement.

When he reached the second floor he jogged around the corner to the next escalator. Sighing, for a moment he wondered why he came to see Shikamaru. If the manager would even let them talk, it would only be for a minute, and probably on Shikamaru's break time. Then when the time came to part, Kiba would have to dart down two flights of escalators and shimmy his way through the crowds, and after that, he could only go home. But he guessed hanging with Shikamaru was better than his mother constantly bugging him about the psychiatrist or the psychologist or wanting to read what was in his journal. Sanctuary did not exist in that house.

Besides, so far Shikamaru was Kiba's best friend. Well, technically Shino and Hinata were supposed to be his best friends, but talking with Shino was even more awkward now, and Hinata just looked like she was going to cry every time she met eyes with Kiba, so he kept his distance from them. And sure, there was Naruto, always willing to make a run for Ichiraku ramen, or play laser tag on the weekends. But lately he was hanging out with Sasuke, and … well, Shikamaru and Kiba got along better anyway. Not like Naruto and Kiba fought, or had disagreements of any sort, but they just didn't fit together the same way. Shikamaru was laid-back, a little cynical, sharp as a tack, and he didn't mind company too much, even if he pretended to. He was a cool guy, plain and simple.

Kiba shrugged to himself as he reached the third floor. He'd already made the sojourn, so if he'd ended up coming all this way for nothing, going a little farther couldn't be much worse. He peered over the edge of the banister, looking down on the food court, the stores milling people in and out, and the pretentious gaggles of teens snickering and bickering all across the floor. Analyzing the obnoxious expressions of young women down below, Kiba was suddenly glad he hadn't done a face-plant on his way to the third floor. At that time, a more prevalent emotion overtook him.

He usually hated falling. He'd fallen on dirt, pavement, and broken bones, all of them unpleasant.

But sometimes he wondered how it would feel to fall from a height like this.

He looked around suspiciously, as if someone were watching him, listening in on his personal thoughts. _Technically_, he thought, _I'm two stories up, right?_ Tentatively, he leaned over the banister. Strangely, the tremendous height sparked no apprehension in him. In fact, he felt nothing. No thoughts crossed his mind, no attempts to rationalize and push away this sudden need to understand what it felt like to free-fall.

Sometimes, he felt that if he could kill his extra personality, he would return to normal. He wondered if it would be as easy as killing himself.

Climbing up onto the banister, he did not contemplate the meaning of what he was doing. He probably didn't even realize he was doing it. Even though he'd thought of it many times before, alone in the darkness of his room at night; tired, angry, and empty. He was a creature of instinct, and everything in his being begged him to run, to fly away. Maybe he believed he had the wings to do so with.

Without a reaction from any of the busy faces on the ground, all sounds muffled and then drowned out in a current of freedom, Kiba stepped out onto thin air and in a curving descent silently chased the ground. The second floor passed him by and brought with it slicing, tearing white that overtook everything around him except for a little patch of tile below, designated just for him. As it grew bigger and bigger in his approach, he closed his eyes.

And when he opened them, he found himself staring over the banister again, the sounds of the mall filling his ringing ears, as if nothing had happened. He looked around, as if something would have changed, but nothing did. A cold shiver snaked up his spine as he surveyed the drop once more, and he stepped away from the tempting ledge. Out of self-preservation, he completely blocked from his mind the illusion of his suicide. He had better things to do.

As he heard a store's door bell tinkle behind him, he turned his gaze on a familiar lanky, drooping figure, feeling his expression become deadpanned. He saw a carton of cigarettes brandished from a pocket, the top flipping open. Next came a silver lighter from the other pocket.

He could barely hear himself say incredulously, "Shikamaru?

His carton and lighter forgotten in his hands, Shikamaru looked up, aloof. "Kiba?" He shifted everything to his left hand so he could use his right to shake hands in greeting. "What's up?"

Calming himself, Kiba tried to throw together a casual reply. "I'm waiting for my date," he answered quickly with a toothy grin.

With one hand Shikamaru deftly produced a single cigarette and caught it between thin lips. He fumbled with the lighter, trying to get the flame to ignite. "Oh? Who is it?"

"You. We're ditchin' your shift." Kiba threw an arm around Shikamaru's shoulder, guiding him towards the escalators. Plucking the cigarette from Shikamaru's long fingers, Kiba tossed it in a winning shot over the railing and straight into a garbage can. "Cut that shit out."

He received raised eyebrows in response. "Why? You're worried my breath won't be fresh enough for our first kiss?"

Laughter rumbled out deep from Kiba's chest. "No, I already expected that." He punched Shikamaru playfully in the arm. "C'mon, man, it's bad for you. Seriously. Ma spent a couple years smoking when I was in primary, and she was sicker than—"

"A dog?"Shikamaru dodged the incoming punch.

"Her teeth were all yellow, her skin was oily all the time, she coughed up a lung, and she smelled nasty. And man, if you start stinkin' like that tobacco shit, it's over between us."

"Well, as heart-breaking as that would be …" Shikamaru eyed him teasingly. "Alright. I was only gonna try it anyway."

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

Thinking back on the sight of Shikamaru trying to light up, the whole scene seemed unnatural. Shikamaru's fidgeting hands, his tense expression at his uncooperative lighter—like he was taking a plunge of his own. After seeing his mother a miserable, pale, coughing mess, and choking through the same dirty air himself, rings of smoke had the stench of death. And they curled around a person like gray tendrils trying to drag them away.

But most of all, Kiba could not get used to seeing Shikamaru so unsettled. Sure, everyone had their different sides. Naruto was bubbly until his violent breakdowns, Sasuke was an obnoxious asshole until he let his guard down for a lonely, quiet moment, and of course Kiba's faces switched at the slightest notice no matter what. But Shikamaru was either aloof, or perplexed. And when he was perplexed, it was more disturbing than any breakdown could be. He was always the calmest of everyone, and even though he was in therapy, his mental state and past were shadowed in mystery. So when he in all his aloofness turned to vexation, how could someone not be frightened at the possibility of what troubled him?

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Kiba pushed these thoughts out of his mind. Awkward silence settled between the two young boys as they neared the bottom, and Kiba was thankful when the escalator reached its destination.

With his toe catching between the track and the floor, for the third time that day, Kiba lost his footing. But before he could even realize it, Shikamaru had an arm around his shoulder, calmly straightening him without a glance or even a flinch, as calmly as ever. And this time when joking hoots, hollers and laughter drifted over from a group of nearby girls, Kiba realized with a burning face, they weren't giggling at his clumsiness.

Damn, was he tired of falling.


	11. The Unraveling

**Disclaimer:** **I think we all know by now that I don't own Naruto, and I'm only doing this as a fan-made, non-profit project for fun and writing critique. Please support the Naruto franchise by buying volumes of the manga and watching the anime. We don't want Masashi to feel like we don't love him.**

(Long intro incoming.)

INTRODUCTION: Okay, a lot of clarifying is going to happen in this chapter. And I mean a lot. (Okay, maybe not that much.) I've already gotten a shit-ton of messages from people pointing out issues or things they don't understand, half of which I already know (and would rather not hear about again :3) and a few things that I didn't realize I hadn't covered, the latter of which were not as confusing, and can be easily taken care of in future updates). So let me tell you what we WILL be covering today! If you care.

After a few chapter updates, I suddenly realized I hadn't clarified much of Shikamaru's problems, other than the fact that he's clinically depressed. But having just that is BORING, right~? I was kind of disappointed that no one expressed a need to know the full story behind Shikamaru. I feel like he's the least popular, and he shouldn't be. Another problem that was mentioned to me by my friend (who was the only person to mention this) was that she thought Shikamaru was too mature. When he started out in the Naruto manga, he was smart, but he was very childish, and still had a lot of things to learn, not really hitting maturity hard until Asuma died. The Shikamaru in this story has from the get-go been far more similar to the Shikamaru after Asuma dies and he gets his revenge. You know, the Shikamaru that told Naruto to stop sulking when Jiraiya died. However, in this chapter, you will see that rather than progressing into maturity like the original Shika, he is beginning to regress into childishness. Actually, rather I should say, he is regressing from calm, cool, and mysterious to fearful and unsure. Which is always fun in my book.

Another thing that's going to happen? Some explanation on Sasuke's social life coupled with the entrance of Sakura! Some people have pointed out to me something I already knew about beforehand; that Sasuke should not be that popular with the ladies considering he's a cross-dresser. While technically that's not true, considering that most women nowadays jump all over gay/transgender/transsexual men, for the sake of the story which deals completely with rational reasons for everything, I'm going to use Sakura's entrance into the story as a full-time character as a crutch to explain why he's so beloved.

Somebody called to my attention also that a list I'd made earlier in the intro of one chapter, a list that told what character-expo chapters I was going to do next, ended up being violated. Well, you guys should already know my planning sucks. That very same person also reminded me of something else … (By the way, if you're reading this, you can't review anonymously. I couldn't respond to your questions and it pissed me off. I lahv you. :3) In the future, I will be trying to more rapidly introduce characters, including: Gai-sensei! (whom the aforementioned person reminded me of), Kankuro, Gaara, Lee, Temari, Neji, and Akatsuki. Neji probably won't come in until after Lee, and will be accompanied by Tenten, I'm sure. Same with Gai. I've already started developing some ideas for introducing Deidara and Hidan, so be patient. The Akatsuki will become integral, and will help move the plot along.

My last note: I hope the story will take a supernatural turn, what do you think? Let me know in a PM. Sorry for the long intro—let's get right down to the nitty-gritty now, alright? (Also, the beginning of the chap is a bit crap, but bear with it.) Enjoy.

**(XXX)**

"Hey, Shika …" Kiba started suddenly. He hesitated with a sip of his drink, looking out over the mall's food court.

Dark eyebrows twitched downwards at this nickname, but other than that, Kiba received patient silence.

"Well, you know, you seem like a pretty well-adjusted guy … you know, by society's standards." This time only one brow arched in response. "I'm just …" Kiba sighed. "Still wondering why you're spending your time with freak-shows like us."

Shikamaru knew what he meant by "us." He leaned back in his chair and, since Kiba was already claiming the whole floor of the food court with his nervous gaze, Shikamaru turned sharp eyes to the ceiling, braving the fluorescent lights. "… That's not something I want to talk about in a public place."

"Like you'd talk about it even if we were somewhere private."

Looking back down, Shikamaru found Kiba's piercing stare upon him, his brooding mouth occupied by his straw. Though he entertained the thought of denying this, Shikamaru wasn't dumb enough to actually try.

And if they were already friends, then … why did keeping his secrets matter so much?

"The walls have ears, and there are some things I don't want them hearing." As he looked around, Shikamaru's gaze drew to Kiba's attention the quiet stares of several other groups of children. They'd already been singled out and made fun of once on their way to the food court, by some kids who still held a grudge against Kiba for being … whatever he was. The wounded expression that beset him suited his wolfish appearance.

"Well, yeah, but … Come on, it can't be that bad. With head-cases like me, Naruto, and Sasuke, we've heard it all, right?" he shrugged. "Can't get much worse. I mean, it's not like you're gonna tell me you can see ghosts or some shit. Well, I mean, you could, but then that'd just be ..."

Giving him an unreadable look, Shikamaru said, "True, I guess."

"Then spill it!" Kiba said with an excited look.

"Seriously, though, not here," the lazy boy groaned. "We've had enough trouble without some Konoha preps thinking we're crazier than we already are."

"What's this about being crazy?" a sweet voice said in approach. Both boys turned and met with shining, green eyes and a friendly smile.

They stared uncomprehendingly for a while until Kiba snapped and cried, "Oh, you're that one chick! You were in my old biology class. Um …" Kiba said dumbly, grasping for a name.

"Haruno," she said. "Haruno Sakura."

That name was dreadfully familiar. Like a demon from hell, memories of her rained down in a scalding torrent of past awkward hallway encounters, long-gone insults towards his popularity and lineage, and the never-failing locker door slammed on his fingers in a drive-by attempt to annoy. These little bits of memories were fractured, scattered throughout his brain, but in all of them he could see her long pink hair swaying as she left him in each bad memory with a smirk.

He couldn't remember much about her with his fragmented memory, but most of what he did was bad. Like the young group of girls that had always surrounded her, like a protective ring, safely transporting her to and from each minor act of heckling—like an unbreakable confidence.

However, right now, there was nobody around her.

"You look … different," Kiba noted, pushing aside his bad feelings in order to give her a once-over. She still looked the same as when he'd seen her, with her girlish smile, wide forehead, and thin figure. But something was missing …

"You cut your hair?" When he noticed, Shikamaru's eyes widened a fraction.

"_That's_ what's different," Kiba murmured, remembering the accursed hair-flips she used to give with every entrance and exit.

There was a twinge of uneasiness in the way Sakura playfully fluffed the ends of her pink locks in response. "You like?"

"You've always had long hair, though," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Well," she said with a hard swallow, "Guess it was time for a change."

In the moment before large tears welled up in her eyes, Kiba saw that something else was missing, something from her eyes, sadness replacing it for the sake of filling the hole left behind.

"You two were handing out fliers a couple weeks ago," she managed after regaining a little of her composure, her eyes cast at the floor. Shikamaru and Kiba shared a dark glance. "Do you … still happen to have one?"

"No," Shikamaru said flatly, causing her to go rigid. Staring in surprise, Kiba had to wonder what beef Shikamaru had with the girl before them.

"But," Kiba saved, "I can give you the phone number that's on the flier. Shika, paper and pen."

"I don't have any."

"Well go get some," Kiba said, glancing over at Sakura for a moment.

"Where am I supposed to find that kind of thing?"

"I don't know, go buy it or something."

Sighing, Shikamaru stood and stretched out his hunched back and shoulders, popping his neck. He left, presumably to go find writing utensils.

"If it's too much trouble—" Sakura called to Shikamaru.

"It's fine," Kiba interrupted. "He's lazy, but he'll live." He gestured to an empty seat. "Sit down."

Turning glittering green eyes on Kiba before nervously eyeing the chair, she made some kind of noise in response and sat down, resting her fidgeting fingers on the table. Both of them watched her hands shake and pick at each other on the tabletop, lost for words. Talking with her, when their exchanges went so poorly in the past, did not come naturally to Kiba. In fact, under normal circumstances, he would have sent her away with a glare and preferably never talked to her again. He's always assumed he would be the polar opposite of a person like her. But seeing her now, they clearly had one thing in common.

When her movements kick-started his nerves, unable to find the words to command her to stop, he placed a large tan hand over her small white fingers, afraid for a moment that his would crush them. Misunderstanding his intentions, her eyes filled once more and as she hung her head in crying, clutched his hand in hers. Only a simple explanation could have enlightened her to his true intentions, and kept them apart, just like they'd been all this time. Almost completely unknowing of each other, so much so that he could hardly remember anything but her face, hair, and the trifling things she'd done.

But he let her imagination run with the concept that he might be trying to comfort her, consciously unknowing himself why the only thing he could think to do was try and stop her trembling hands from moving.

**(XXX)**

A few days earlier, Sakura had been sitting at her desk after school, closing her green eyes against the onslaught of anger that accompanied that annoying voice.

"Hey, bill-board brow. Waiting for Sasuke again?"

Somehow she managed to summon enough control over herself to respond calmly and with a struggling smile, "Yes, I am."

Ever since Sakura had taken Sasuke to the nurse's office to make sure he wasn't ill, he'd nearly disappeared off the face of the Earth. Weeks had rolled by and she hadn't even caught a glimpse of him, which had to be impossible, because they had several classes together. She decided to come super early to the first class they had together in the day, and wait for him, all the while thoughts spinning around in her head. Had she been too forward with him? Did he hate her? Yeah, he definitely had to. No one could like someone pushy like her, forcing him to go to the nurse's office with her.

She had to will down the knot in her throat. She was always suppressing herself like this.

Actually, if she had someone to blame, it was the very same person she was waiting for and thinking about. Before she met Sasuke, she was popular, well-loved, and had no shortage of ways to take out her boiling emotions. After all, if you're at the top of the food chain, what does it matter if you break a few eggs below you? You can slam a few lockers in students' faces, knock their lunch off the table, step on them just a li-ttle. Just that much could help relieve the tension of a day.

Though, Sakura was also aware that her current situation was not his fault. Sasuke was fairly popular, and caught the eye of many ladies—though they'd rather die than admit it. Many girls set heartfelt wishes on him despite his skirt, who chased him down and asked him for advice on girly things, like what outfits are the cutest and what makeup goes best with a certain shirt. Not like Sasuke ever bothered to reply to these insulting inquiries.

The reason Sakura in particular admired Sasuke was because he was indisputably masculine and amazing, unimpeded by choice of dress. He talked like a man, acted like a man, and though he was admittedly feminine, he still looked like a man, too. His voice was deep and soothing, he was great at sports (when he could be convinced to "waste time" playing them, as he put it) and he could probably bench-press more than anyone in school. And on top of all that, he was an ace student. Those onyx eyes viewed the world with such a dark intensity, as if either pulling everything into him, or pushing it away. He had incredible control over himself and the atmosphere around him. Sakura wanted to be like that. She wanted to be as smart as he was, as talented, as graceful, like a shining star. He was everything she wished she could live up to.

Pulling herself out of the depths of her thoughts, Sakura's smile immediately shifted to a glare, aimed at the person who'd been bothering her. "You're waiting for him too, aren't you, Ino-pig?"

The saucy blonde flipped her hair, looking down on Sakura with barely-disguised malice in her bright blue eyes. The shape of her face, her skin, everything was perfect. The exact opposite of the oddly-proportioned girl Sakura had turned out to be, with her shocking pink hair and wide brow. "As if. I already have a man, so why bother waiting for another?"

Sakura shrugged, feeling an overwhelming surge of weary hopelessness. She hated dealing with Ino. That blonde bitch would sometimes follow her around several classes, pestering her, bullying her, and making fun of her. To some extent, Sakura believed she deserved it for the similar unkind things she'd done to other people. Ino had always been popular, but kind. Everybody loved how pretty, sociable, talented, and amazing she was. In fact, Sakura might have tried so hard to join the in-crowd because she was jealous of Ino.

But there were some people even Ino held a grudge against.

"Of course, I guess he's not a man if he's practically a woman on the inside," Ino said with a smirk, knowing just how to get under Sakura's skin.

The red-hot shock from those words forced Sakura out of her seat. With unbelievably cold eyes she ground out, "Take it back."

She remembered the day Sasuke saved her from her selfishness. Once in the lunchroom, she had poured a carton of milk all over a young, ugly girl's head, smashed the carton down on top of her skull, and poured the girl's food down her own shirt. Her entourage had been in tow, laughing it up alongside her, until as they were walking away, Sasuke, who happened to be passing by, tossed his water bottle at her feet while she was too busy giggling to notice. She stepped on the water bottle, tripped, and landed flat on her back on the floor. He loomed over her, spat out something like "worthless" and dumped his own food garbage on top of her before leaving the lunchroom.

The humiliation had been brutal, but it had also awakened something in her. A feeling that she hadn't felt in a long time—one that reminded her of who she really was, and showed her the awful person she was trying to be. From that day on, she'd sworn to change everything, even her hair. Now she sometimes had trouble remembering what life had been like on the "greener" side of the grass. But then again, for her, those times were easily forgettable—unimportant. So remembering them didn't matter.

Sasuke had strength. Honor. Integrity. Everything Sakura wanted to have.

So, that's why she had no choice.

"Take back what you said about Sasuke."

The only thing she could see was her own rage, swimming in front of her eyes at high frequencies, like red strings vibrating over and over. So mad over such a small thing, such a difference from that hopelessness she had just been feeling. Being made to feel like there was something wrong with Sasuke, something wrong with admiring him, for being concerned about his well-being. Like somehow, he was inferior.

Like somehow, Sakura was inferior because of it.

_Sometimes I think I hurt you the most, Ino._

"I said, take it back."

"Why don't you make me?" Ino sneered.

_Say, Ino. Do you remember …_

With a mighty heave, Sakura picked up a chair and swung it at that perfect, porcelain face.

… _When we used to be friends?_

**(XXX)**

Every time something big happened in their friendship, the cherry blossoms were blooming. In fact, they'd met under the swaying branches of a sakura tree that divided the miles between their houses in perfect symmetry. Chasing a brown bunny up the hill that led to the stunning natural landmark, Sakura never expected to find the first friend she'd ever had.

Even back then, Ino's eight-year-old face was already picture perfect. That face, smiling at Sakura in surprise as they both came up the hill at the same time from opposite sides—that face was the first thing Sakura always saw. They'd both caught sight of the bunny fleeing, and only after a few minutes of running did Sakura realize, that she had someone beside her, laughing as they ran, and that she herself was laughing too. They never caught the rabbit, but they pinky-promised that they would meet up the next day under the sakura tree, to look for rabbits again. Only the next day, when they discarded the thought of chasing rabbits for playing together, did they learn each other's names.

The next spring, Ino taught Sakura about flowers.

Gently, Ino drew a small purple flower from the earth, and showed it to Sakura. "… And this flower is called a 'cosmo.'" She tucked the stem in her now shoulder-length blonde hair, smiling at Sakura. "I bet it looks pretty on me, doesn't it?"

With a giggle, Sakura said, "It really does! You sure know a lot about flowers, Ino."

"My family runs a flower-shop in town, so I've learned a ton of cool things about flowers!" She began plucking other small flowers from the grass. "Like, this flower is—" She stilled as she caught a glimpse of Sakura's face. "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's just …" With her arms around her knees, pulling them close to her chest, Sakura's expression was sullen. She stared at the colorful petals swaying among the green grass. "Ino always looks really pretty, and has a lot of friends. Compared to you, I'm …" She hid her face behind her knees.

Ino stared at her friend for a moment, then searched the grass around them until she found a bud, plucking it from the earth. She held it out for Sakura to see. "Look."

Sakura tentatively raised her head and looked at the bud in Ino's hand.

"Sakura-chan, right now you're like this bud. You haven't matured enough yet to bloom, and so you stay hidden in your shell. But as spring comes for the cherry blossoms," she turned and looked at the sakura tree close behind them. Sakura's gaze followed. "You too will bloom. And when you do …" She gave Sakura a radiant smile. "You'll be more beautiful than all the other flowers."

With the encouragement of those words, Sakura passed blissfully through two more springs.

Then, at age eleven, while playing hide and seek with Ino and a couple friends she'd invited, Sakura, who'd successfully stayed hidden even when everyone else was found, changed her hiding spot, managing to sneak behind the sakura tree. Everyone had congregated close by, and were chatting amongst themselves, presumably contemplating their next move. Stifling a storm of giggles that threatened to bubble out of her throat, Sakura planned to jump out and surprise them, saying "I won!"

But when she was about to do so, she heard one of them say her name. Listening close to catch what they were saying, she pressed herself against the tree and dared to peek out just a bit.

"She's just so annoying!" one girl was saying. "And how ugly can you get? That forehead is so _wide_, and her face is so stupid."

"We should just let her hide, and ditch her," another girl snickered.

"Hey, that's my _friend_ you're talking about," Ino snapped. "There's nothing wrong with Sakura."

"Well, you need a _new_ friend, Ino," the first girl said. "Sakura has to go. Now come on, let's go do something else."

Everyone began walking away, except for Ino, who stayed behind, standing in place for a few moments. Then she turned and walked towards the tree, leaning around it to look at Sakura, who was now sitting with her back against the trunk.

"It's okay, Sakura. They're just idiots. I still think you're the best."

That's true, Sakura had thought to herself, and took comfort in those words. But somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she wondered why the thoughts of others felt so much more important.

Three more springs passed, and the day when the tree was at its brightest, Sakura and Ino had their first fight, a petty squabble over a handsome boy.

"I know you're pretty and popular, so it can't be helped that he would notice you," Sakura said. Her eyes filled with rage. "But you _knew_ that I like him, and yet you still asked him out."

"I knew you would act like this, so that's why I didn't tell you," Ino countered.

"So how long were you planning to keep it hidden?" Sakura yelled. "What do you take me for, an _idiot_?"

"You're certainly acting like an idiot right now!"

Sakura forgot about that boy in a few weeks. But she never forgot how angry she was at Ino. For being perfect, for being popular—for being wanted. A month later at school, she met the sleazy boy who promised to help her get what she wanted.

The next spring was when everything ended. Sakura and Ino sat beneath the sakura tree, and Ino had only just finished telling Sakura how busy and distant she was lately, asking her why she was so cold, wondering if she'd done something wrong. With a shrug, Sakura replied, "I have new friends. I just don't have time for you anymore." And for a while, she savored the bitter, wounded look Ino wore as she left the hill for the last time.

Once after that, reminiscent, Sakura visited the hill again to see if Ino still hung out there since they'd stopped talking. She had vague, buried wishes of patching things up.

She stopped in front of the hill, only to find that the tree had been cut down.

For a split second, Sakura wondered why seeing it made her sad.

**(XXX)**

Shikamaru watched Chouji pace in circles around the floor, arms filled with random food he was munching on anxiously. He'd never seen the chubby man so deathly pale before. Leaning his chin on his elbow, Shikamaru listened to the hospital secretary droning in his ear, feigning indifference. "Mhm. Yes, I understand. Alright. Thank you very much." He hung up and stood, stretching his stiff muscles.

Immediately, Chouji attacked him. "What'd they say? Is Ino alright?"

"She's got a slight concussion, but is recuperating well, so you can go ahead and visit her at the hospital," Shikamaru said. He took the food items from Chouji's arms one by one. "Now stop eating. If you don't quit, you'll probably get nervous and throw up when you see her in a hospital bed."

"Oh God," Chouji moaned, grasping for his food, which Shikamaru moved just out of his reach. "In a hospital bed. I hadn't even imagined …!"

Patting him on the back, his friend said, "Then don't imagine it."

"You have to come with me, Shikamaru!" Chouji begged. "I need emotional support!"

"I already told you, Chouji, I have something to do tonight," Shikamaru said. He walked into the kitchen with Chouji's food, and began putting everything away.

Chouji followed him. "Can't you just cancel it? Ino's in the hospital, for God's sake. What if I get there and she's in a coma? What if she has brain damage? If that happens, what am I supposed to do without you there?"

"You'll deal with it," Shikamaru said finality. "You have to start dealing with stressful situations on your own. That means without me," he slapped Chouji's hand as he reached toward the cupboard, "and your food."

Glaring, Chouji said hotly, "Well, it's not like you're doing anything more important."

Eyes sharpening, the sharp-browed boy countered, "I told you, I have plans."

"Yeah, I've heard about your 'plans,'" Chouji made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "You're only planning on hanging out with some kid from your therapy group, right? You see him every fuckin' week. Your friend's in the hospital. I think you've mixed up your priorities."

Shikamaru's eyes narrowed even further. To him, the air felt electric in a way Chouji could never understand. "This isn't simply 'hanging out.' It's something I've been putting off, that I can't put off anymore."

"Man, you're always so fuckin' cryptic," Chouji said. "It's hard to believe you when you don't even tell me what's going on."

"There are some things only crazy people understand," Shikamaru said, patting Chouji on the shoulder as he walked past him. "Unfortunately, you're not crazy enough. Besides, the first person Ino should see is you. You're her boyfriend—she needs you, not me."

"But you're her friend. She needs you too," Chouji argued.

"Yes," Shikamaru held up a finger, "But at a later date. Since you're her boyfriend, she trusts you. Which means, she's more likely to tell you how she got in the hospital in the first place."

"Why wouldn't she?"

Shikamaru's eyes were dark. "Because apparently, it was bad enough that the secretary said it was information she couldn't give me over the phone."

Leaving Chouji to stunned silence, Shikamaru sauntered into the living room and plopped down on the couch. Frowning, he stood up and removed the cushion, then picked up a thin, laminated book with a flexible black cover. There were no markings to indicate what was inside, or what the book was for. Flipping it open, he saw pictures of …

He flipped through the photos in surprise. "My parents?"

The photos had to be recent, because he wasn't in any of them, and they mostly consisted of photos from one family reunion. He looked up at Chouji with an expression that said, "Do you know anything about this?"

Chouji shifted nervously. "Somebody dropped this off in our mail-slot after the mailman had already come. You were gone, so I decided to check it, and saw all the pictures in there." Rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes shifted to the far wall. "I know you're not crazy about your folks, so when you came home, I panicked and shoved it under the seat cushions."

Turning back to the book, Shikamaru looked through pictures of smiling relatives, colorfully-decorated holiday dinner tables, and friendly hugs. For a moment, he wondered angrily if this was his mother's way of showing off that they didn't need him, trying to goad him into coming back. However, after looking closely at a few photos, he realized that something was wrong.

He pulled out his wallet, and plucked a worn picture from the folds. Surrounded by family, on his fourteenth birthday, nobody was looking at the camera, rather laughing at Shikamaru. His mother had pulled a birthday hat over his head at a jaunty angle while he leaned on his elbow, brooding at the pink cake in front of him, which was decorated with flowers. This was the last picture Shikamaru could remember having taken with his family.

He held it up to one of the photos in the book and compared. Then he turned the page and held another photo in comparison. After going through a few more pictures, he realized, _I was right._

Compared to his birthday photo, every picture in the laminated black book was strangely grim. Even though all the décor in the background was cheery, and everyone posed like they were having a great time, Shikamaru found that every smile was forced, every muscle was tense, and everyone looked tired.

After turning over a certain page, a white scrap of paper fell from the book and onto the floor. He picked it up to take a look. Scrawled in a familiar mess that could only be his father's hand-writing, the note read, 'We're not the same without you.'

"The old man's getting sentimental," Shikamaru muttered, throwing the note and the book on the kitchen counter. Not like he didn't appreciate the gesture, or miss his father—and his mother, for that matter—but the time had long since passed when he could live comfortably with them. In fact, he'd already forgiven his mother, and wanted to make amends with her.

But, now there were other reasons why he could not return.

Shikamaru looked up as Chouji began gathering together the things he planned to take to Ino. Leaning against the counter, nervously rubbing his neck and looking at the far wall, he muttered, "You really have to leave this early?"

Chouji sent him another hot glare. "And you really have to hang out with your buddy at a time like this?"

For a moment, Shikamaru didn't say anything, and Chouji took it as defeat, turning back to his collection of items. He was startled when he heard Shikamaru hiss from across the room, "What the fuck is your _problem_ with me?"

"What the fuck is _your_ problem?" Chouji snapped. "It's not enough that you want to neglect Ino for one of your new fucked-up friends—" Shikamaru twitched at that, "—but now you want to keep me away longer, too?"

"I'm asking you to stay, because you know what goes on in this house," Shikamaru said darkly.

Blanching, Chouji tried to brush off the comment by scoffing, "Is that why you're meeting with this kid? What are you gonna tell him, then? You really think he's going to believe you?"

Eyes narrowing in a mixture of pain and anger, with his jaw working, Shikamaru said, "You know what? Fine. A person like you, with no worries or sin, wouldn't have to be concerned about this kind of thing." He turned and picked up the photo book again, a token that once long ago, his family hadn't believed in him either.

"Fine," Chouji ground out. He angrily grabbing up the things he'd collected, shoved them into his book-bag, and threw it over his shoulder as he stormed out of their apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Scratching his head, Shikamaru wondered why their friendship had come to this. Their argument wasn't just out of the blue, provoked purely by emotions—surely they were both being emotional, but this fight had been in the makings for a long time. Ever since Shikamaru had started therapy, and began taking time to hang out with Kiba, Chouji had become easily angered, judgmental, and defensive when confronted about these recent bad habits. Normally, Shikamaru might be a little more sympathetic, under the assumption that he was just not spending enough time with the person he called his best friend, but it seemed like whenever Chouji made negative comments, it was always associated towards Shikamaru not being available to do something for him. Like, "Nobody was there to help me when I had to make brownies for the party," or "I can't believe I had to do that history assignment all by myself! How am I supposed to understand the material without you?" Not like Shikamaru particularly minded being needed, but it felt like Chouji never really wanted Shikamaru to spend time with him, rather he just wanted his friend to do things for him.

Maybe, Shikamaru thought as he moved back to the couch and laid down, that was why he'd recently taken to hanging out with Kiba so much. When they hung out, they just … hung out. Sometimes it was at the mall, sometimes it was at the park, or at the therapy sessions, but no matter what, they did normal things that friends do. They talked, played games, and over all just lazed around. Kiba reminded him that he was still a kid, and had the right to be one, without having to worry about bills or life in general. And most of all, Kiba was interested in learning about Shikamaru's troubled past. Except for Kiba, everyone in his life had either not believed him when he tried to plead his case regarding his criminal history, or didn't know a thing and just laid back waiting for him to tell them. Nobody really wanted to know, or cared when they heard.

That's why this was important to Shikamaru. He'd forgotten what it felt like to have any worth other than his paycheck. So even though he agreed that it was selfish to put off taking care of Ino, he wanted to do this one thing for himself.

That's why …

He perked his ears and turned around as he heard the sound of something scraping on wood behind him. The only thing directly behind him was a small end-table pushed up against the wall with a lamp on top of it that Ino had given them as a housewarming gift.

Was it his imagination, or had the lamp moved a few inches?

He stared at it, etching the lamp and its position into his mind with short, jerky movements of his eyes, and felt the apprehension slowly die down inside of him. He turned back around and looked at the far wall, breathing a sigh of relief.

Then the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he heard the scrape behind him once more. He whipped around to find the lamp was now on the edge of the table, slowly tipping over as if somebody were pushing it.

He scrambled over the back of the couch just as the lamp started falling and managed to catch it, tentatively placing the fixture back in its place. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room, as if he would actually see something. He still had a half an hour before Kiba was supposed to meet him, and already there were abnormal things happening.

"Maybe I should get a drink," Shikamaru muttered to himself. Maybe some water would calm his nerves. He backed up towards the kitchen counter, keeping his eyes on everything he could in the room, not wanting to look away. When he ran into the counter, he reluctantly turned around and grabbed himself a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water. He glanced over at the fridge, thinking maybe he should get something to eat, too, and eventually grabbed a plate, went to the fridge, and got out some leftovers. As he heated them up in the microwave he gave the room another once-over warily, straining his ears to hear anything unusual. The only thing he heard was the beeping of the microwave to tell him his food was ready.

Taking the plate from the microwave, he grabbed himself some silverware and allowed himself to relax a little. Just thirty minutes. He only had to wait that long, and then Kiba would show up, and these bad feelings and weird happenings would cease. He picked up his glass of water and turned his back on the counter, making his way towards the couch.

As soon as he turned away, a pair of hands from behind sent him toppling to the floor. His glass hit the floor with a sound thud, spilling water all over the carpet, and his plate sent food sprawling under the couch. He jumped to his feet and spun around, searching the walls frantically.

_Where…?!_

Something hit him in the back of the head, forcing him to his knees again, and landed with a _thump_ next to him. He looked over and saw it was the photo book. Grabbing it quickly, he staggered to his feet and without even bothering to grab his hoodie, ran out of the apartment, shutting and locking it tight. He slid down the railing of the stairs leading up to his floor and pulled out his cell, texting Kiba furiously.

_Change of plans—we're meeting at my parents' house. Don't come to the apartment. I'll explain later._

Then he gave him the address, sent the message, and quickly pocketed his phone as he ran down the street.

**(XXX)**

Kiba pulled up in front of the apartment complex on a stunningly bright-pink bike that Hana had given him as a joke his last birthday after the whole subject of sexuality was a little less tender. He looked up at the building and remarked to himself with unease that it was a pretty slummy place. Not that Kiba minded—Shikamaru had already warned him that their apartment was a little trashy. But looking at the complex now, he was gradually becoming worried for his friend. By the looks of the place, it probably wasn't very well-maintained, and if this was the best he could afford, what was Shikamaru's financial situation like?

Shaking these thoughts from his head, he looked for a bike rack. Shikamaru had said there should be one nearby. However, after looking for about five minutes, he couldn't seem to find it, so he just chained it to a post and started up the stairs.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, planning to call his mother, who asked him to check in once he got to Shikamaru's house. Shikamaru had been over once for dinner and somehow left a bad impression on her, and apparently now she thought he was some type of maniac. She'd asked that Kiba call when he got there, and call when he left, which she ordered would be after exactly two hours spent at his friend's house. He thought to himself bitterly that it was a fine time for her to be playing 'mommy' now after how neurotic she'd been for a while after he was attacked, but he'd agreed in the end.

When he pulled the red and black-skinned phone from his pocket, he nearly accidentally ripped off the keychain he'd affixed to it. On the end of it, there was a little worn-out plastic Rottweiler. This was another present he received as a joke from his sister, which she claimed would make him look more rough-and-tumble. He always swore he would throw it away, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe that was because she also claimed that it was the keychain their father had gotten for her when she first started going to school and needed a duplicate of the house key.

He moved to turn on the phone, but then stopped himself and shoved it back in his pocket with a cocky smirk, thinking, _Forget the old bat, then! Do her some good to get a little worried once in a while!_

He plodded up one flight of steps and looked for Shikamaru's apartment door. He said it was on the second floor, the first door on the right. He found it when he saw a mailbox next to the first door with Shikamaru's name on it.

He leaned forward to look at the label, muttering to himself, "Akimichi Chouji, eh? So he has a roommate?"

Shrugging, Kiba rapped on the door quickly and then shifted his weight to one foot as he stood waiting. He sniffed, the smell of some kind of food coming from inside. This ignited his hopes that Shikamaru would treat him to some dinner, seeing as how his stomach was rumbling pitifully.

However, no sound came from inside. Even when he listened closely, Kiba could not hear any footsteps approaching the door.

_Nobody's in? That can't be right. I know I have the right time …_

He began to pull his phone back out to confirm that he hadn't made a mistake, when he saw the door swing open. However, nobody was standing in the doorway. No one seemed to be there at all. And also, there was a broken lamp lying on the floor just inside.

"No way," Kiba said. "Did somebody break in?" Panicking, he turned the door handle from the outside to check the lock.

_Huh? _

The handle turned smoothly, and the lock was fully intact. There were only a few scratches on the side of the door where the lock would be able to click into place, but that only meant the door had been well-used. Nothing was damaged, or seemed out of place.

Confused, Kiba crept into the doorway, and looked around the corner into the room. The overhead light was on, but it was flickering. And standing beneath it, in the middle of the room, was a dark-skinned woman with pinkish-red hair standing there in scuffed-up jeans with her back turned to the door. Even though she was a ways away, he could hear her breathing heavily. Her body was unearthly still.

His eyes swept over the rest of the room, but he couldn't seem to find anybody else but her. But who was she? He knew this was Shikamaru's room, so … She couldn't be Chouji, right? And there was something unnerving about her. Something about the heavy smell in the air that told him something was wrong.

Tentatively and with a pounding heart, he called out to her. "U-um … excuse me, I'm looking for someone …"

She twitched and the light suddenly stopped flickering, burning steadily brighter and brighter as her head slowly turned around. Smoke started to come from the bulb, as if the glass itself were actually burning, making a high-pitched whine as the dark face gradually came farther and farther into view …

Until he met with translucent yellow eyes and a smile dripping blood, and the bulb exploded, sending glass skittering across the room and smoke pouring from the light fixture. Kiba scrambled back against the railing of the balcony outside the room.

He couldn't see anything but bright white for a few moments, blinking his eyes painfully to try and regain his vision. His heart had skipped a beat, and as he lay gasping for breath, the sight of the ceiling told him his vision was finally starting to come back, when he heard a distorted voice—

_**Come here, little boooy~.**_

Claw-like fingers dug into the right leg of his jeans and a powerful grip pulled him with one swift yank into the pitch-black room. He yelped and dug into the carpet with his fingernails and tried to drag himself back towards the door, struggling against the hold on his legs that caused him to lose his grip several times. He panted and wheezed, his fingers hurting, clawing his way towards the open door. But no matter how hard he struggled, he was constantly being jerked back towards the unnatural darkness that waited within the apartment, the sound of a laughing woman filling his ears.

When she tried to grab at his torso, he unconsciously kicked at her. He heard a grunt in response, accompanied by a loose grip. He wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation and scrambled towards the door, nearly making it out before she grabbed onto his foot again. However, he managed to get a hold on the wall of the doorway before she could reel him back in and she ripped off his shoe instead.

He shot to his feet, darted out the door, and slammed it shut just as he saw her shadowed figure lunge for him. She bounced off the door, and when he heard her hit the floor with a yowl, he sprang for the steps, tripping down the third one and rolling to the bottom, where he immediately jumped to his feet again and ran for his bike. As he hastily unchained it, his fingers fumbling with the lock, he saw that his fingernails were cracked and bleeding, and felt a thick wet line trickle down the side of his face, which he hoped to God was just sweat.

He managed to get the bike unchained and hopped onto it, pedaling madly away without looking back. He struggled to get his phone out of his pocket, the only thought in his mind that he needed to call the police, or call Shikamaru, or just do _something._ He turned the phone on and to his surprise, there was a text message from Shikamaru, from about ten minutes before Kiba had arrived at the apartment.

It read, _Change of plans—we're meeting at my parents' house. Don't come to the apartment. I'll explain later. Here's the address._

The police could wait, Kiba decided as he shifted his course towards the destination Shikamaru had detailed. He had a feeling Shikamaru's explanation would have something to do with the things he'd just experienced.

**(XXX)**

"It's rare of you to come visit, Shikamaru," Yoshino said as she laid out dinner with a tight expression. "You sure you can't eat dinner with us?"

Groaning inwardly, Shikamaru wondered if his mother really even missed him at all. "I already told you, I can't today. I couldn't meet my friend at the apartment, so I figured I'd meet him here and drop in at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone."

The dishes clattered roughly on the table. "Hmph. He's pretty late, though, don't you think? Maybe he didn't get the message, and is at your apartment right now?"

Shikamaru's face went so ghostly white at this notion that Shikaku stood from his place at the dinner table and put a hand on Shikamaru's shoulder, gently guiding him into the adjacent seat.

"Come on. We'll treat him to dinner when he gets here too, so you can take your time and relax as well."

He said Shikamaru could relax, but all the young man could think about is the possibility that Kiba really had gone to the apartment, and what might have happened to him there.

Yoshino took no notice of his state, and with an air of satisfaction declared, "I'm still finishing up with some of the cooking. Go ahead and start eating what's already here." Then she walked into the kitchen with her head held high.

As soon as she was gone, Shikaku tapped Shikamaru's hand, snapping him out of his reverie. "I see you brought the photos with you."

Finally remembering what was in his hand, Shikamaru looked down at the little black book. "Ah … yeah."

His father looked at him expectantly. "And you got my note?"

Shikamaru nodded dumbly, but didn't say anything.

"Shikamaru." His son didn't respond. "Don't you think it's about time you came home? I think your mother is at the place where she can apologize, so let's work this out."

Sighing, Shikamaru leaned his head on his hand and rubbed one of his temples. "I … I would like to. I really would, old man. I mean, I don't even want an apology anymore. I think I'm ready to say sorry myself. I've been ready for a long time."

Shikaku put a hand over his and squeezed it. "Then why didn't you tell us?"

Looking his father in the eyes for the first time in nearly a year, Shikamaru answered, "I wanted to be able to say that I didn't need anyone."

"Why?"

"Because the more people I bring into my life, the deeper the hole gets, until everyone will suffer."

"You're exaggerating—" Shikaku began to say, but he was cut off by the sound of heavy beating on the door. Both father and son sprang from their seats and looked at each other. Yoshino came into the dining room, asking, "What the hell is that noise?"

Running quickly to the door, Shikamaru threw it open, and saw Kiba standing there, shaking, pale, with blood spatters on his shirt and red lines running down the side of his face.

"Kiba, what—?"

Shikamaru saw Kiba's eyes roll back in his head and his knees give out, and caught him quickly, pulling him gently into the house and shutting the door, then lowered him to the floor. By the way he was panting and wheezing, losing all control over his breath, Shikamaru knew Kiba was having another panic attack. Tears were rolling down that tan face and he grasped weakly at Shikamaru's shirt. He had to get Kiba under control, or the man might have a heart attack.

Yoshino walked into the room as "Shikamaru, was it your friend at the door—?" She covered her mouth and gave a small shriek when she saw the bloodied teen shaking in Shikamaru's arms.

Running in after hearing her cry, Shikaku asked, "What's going on?!"

"Be quiet," Shikamaru hissed at the both of them. He looked at his mother, who was trembling. "Go get the first aid kit and a wet wash-cloth."

"No! No, we have to call an ambulance!" she pleaded with a shaky voice.

"Don't," Shikamaru insisted. "Just do what I asked. You have to trust me—I'll deal with it."

For what felt like the first time ever, Yoshino actually looked to her husband for guidance, even though she usually brazenly made her own decisions and pushed him until he was passive and agreed with everything she said. But this time, when he nodded to her in assurance, she listened to him, and wordlessly ran to get the first-aid kit.

Shikaku knelt down by his son as the young man he'd considered his lazy, mellow son for so many years cradle Kiba and rock him back and forth like one would a child, whispering, "Breathe in; breathe out. It's alright, I'm here."

Quickly his mother returned with the kit, just as Kiba began to suck in each lungful of air at a regular pace. Carefully, Shikamaru helped his friend over to the couch, and after Kiba was seated Shikamaru took the kit from his mother, sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, and went to work on the side of Kiba's face with the wash-cloth.

"Mom, this is my friend Inuzuka Kiba," to whom he said, "Are you dizzy or faint?"

Swallowing hard a few times, Kiba responded in a gravelly voice, "No. Not right now." He winced as Shikamaru found the source of the bleeding and gently dabbed at the cut on his head.

"Good." Observing the wound, Shikamaru decided to pull out the gauze and bandages. The cut didn't seem to be very deep, but a simple band-aid definitely wasn't going to cover it. He began applying the gauze and wrapping a bandage around Kiba's head while continuing to question him. "Are you hurting anywhere else?"

Kiba paused again, waiting until Shikamaru was finished, then held out his fingers for him to see.

"God, Kiba," Shikamaru breathed, voice faltering as he grasped his friend's hands, looking at the blood seeping out of the nail beds. "What the hell happened to your fingers? What happened you your head?"

"I dunno what happened to my head. Must've happened when the—" Kiba suddenly paused, sharp eyes flickering between Shikamaru's parents, who were staring at him with horrified concern. When Shikamaru looked at him questioningly, he hung his head and said simply, "The walls have ears."

Shikamaru grunted in understanding, and gestured with a chin at Yoshino. "Alright. Give her your home phone number so she can call your mom and tell her what happened."

"No!" Kiba shouted, then checked himself. "No, please don't. I'll call her."

"And tell her what?" Shikaku asked darkly.

Cowering under Shikaku's rather big shadow, Kiba turned away and shrugged. "She wanted me to check in, so I'll just tell her I got here safely and … when I get home, I'll tell her I crashed my bike while we were hanging out. Or something."

Both of Shikamaru's parents looked like they disapproved, but Shikamaru intervened before they could disagree. "Fine. Give her a call."

Kiba nodded and pulled out his cell phone, dialing his mother's number. She picked up almost immediately, and while he talked to her, Shikamaru pulled his parents aside and spoke quietly to them.

"I need the two of you to move upstairs for a little while, okay?" he whispered.

"Why would we ever?" Yoshino snapped. "The poor boy's hurt!"

"Please," Shikamaru said beseechingly. "If you guys are around, he'll never tell me what happened." He looked to his father, hoping for reinforcement.

"He's probably right, dear," Shikaku said soothingly to his wife, despite the defiant glare he received. "This kid seemed reluctant to say anything in our presence. Let's go upstairs for a while and check back on them in, say, an hour?" He looked at Shikamaru, who nodded with approval.

"How can you go along with this so easily?" Yoshino hissed at Shikaku before turning an accusing gaze on Shikamaru. "And you! You keep being so cryptic, just telling us to 'trust you,' without explaining any of the situation!"

"That's because the last time I tried to explain something serious to you, you didn't believe me, and I ended up in a dirty little apartment with a two-bit job," Shikamaru seethed.

Unexpectedly, his mother shut her mouth at this, even though it was set in a thin line. Shikaku put his arm around her shoulder and led her up the stairs while he had the chance, and Shikamaru returned to Kiba's side just as he hung up, sitting down on the coffee table once more.

"She bought it," Kiba said. His eyes flickered over to the staircase where Shikamaru's parents had just disappeared.

"Don't worry, they're gone," Shikamaru said softly. "If you're still scared they'll hear, you can whisper. Now tell me what happened."

For a second, Shikamaru thought Kiba would cry again. But to his surprise, Kiba quickly regained his composure, and began recounting the night.

"I went to your apartment, and I knocked on the door, but no one came, and as I was about to check your text to make sure I came at the right time, the door swung open, and when I looked inside, the light was flickering and there was this red-headed chick just standing there and I called out to her, and she turned around—"

"Kiba!" Shikamaru said in alarm. "You're hyperventilating. Calm down."

Nodding, Kiba unconsciously grabbed Shikamaru's hand and started to play with those long, white fingers to keep himself focused on something else so he wouldn't panic. "She turned around, and … and the light just blew out. Like, glass went everywhere. I think that might be how my head got cut. And … and I couldn't see anything from the flash, and by the time I could, something grabbed me by the legs and dragged me into the room." Tears started rolling down his cheeks again and he struggled to keep his voice steady as he continued. "I had to crawl across the floor, and it just kept pulling me back, and … I finally kicked it, and it let me go, and … it grabbed me again before I could get out, and … I managed to get away, and I shut the door, and ran off. I only got your text when I turned on my phone to try and call someone."

He suddenly seemed to realize he was grabbing Shikamaru's hand with an iron grip, and forced himself to relax. "I'm sorry … I'm sorry, I didn't know …!" He quickly felt a comforting hand alight on his shoulder.

"This is why I didn't want to talk in public," Shikamaru whispered.

Kiba squeezed his hand harshly again. "Why … why did you invite me to your house in the first place, if you knew this kind of thing was going to happen?"

"I _didn't_ know," Shikamaru said, trying to hide how much Kiba's words stung. "Usually when two people are there at one time, nothing bad happens. But today, my roommate left early, and things started going wrong, and I got scared and had to leave. That's why I tried to text you."

"Are you seriously telling me your apartment is haunted? How can you still live there?"

"It's not the house that's haunted," Shikamaru said, averting his eyes, leaving Kiba to look on in confusion. He didn't quite have the heart to say "_I'm_ haunted." Not yet. Now wasn't the time—Kiba needed to feel safe and recover. "Look, I don't think it's good if I explain while you're upset. Can you wait just a little longer? Maybe a day or two?"

Even though he hesitated, in the end, Kiba nodded. "Yeah … yeah, you're probably right."

"Here, let me get Mom back down here to finish dinner," Shikamaru said, standing up. "You can have something to eat while you get a hold of yourself. In the meantime, I need to make a trip back to the apartment—"

Kiba tackled him, nearly bowling him over, and clung to him desperately, the water-works threatening to start for a third time. "No. No, oh God, no. Don't go back there."

"I don't like it any more than you do, but there are important things there that I can't afford to lose," Shikamaru said, trying to pry himself from Kiba's grasp.

Those tan hands only squeezed tighter and he whimpered like a wounded pup. "And what if I can't afford to lose you?" His grip was vice-like, even though his whole body was shaking. He's just been through pure hell, Shikamaru thought as he turned soft eyes on Kiba's matted hair, so as his friend, he should at least be able to do this much.

"Alright, I won't go," Shikamaru conceded. "But you have to let me go long enough to call my roommate, okay?"

Kiba nodded and stepped back, allowing Shikamaru to pull out his cell phone. He dialed the number just as Yoshino crept down the stairs and asked anxiously, "Is everyone alright?"

Shikaku followed close behind, saying, "Sorry, I tried to stop her, but she slipped past me."

"It's alright," Shikamaru said as the phone rang. "Mom, can you start dinner again? We all need to wind down a little bit."

"Dinner?" Yoshino murmured. Then she put her hands over her mouth. "The stove! I left the stove on!" She dashed into the kitchen, a slew of obscenities ensuing. Shikaku led Kiba into the dining room, who looked over his shoulder warily at Shikamaru, but didn't resist.

Watching them go, Shikamaru's call was on the third ring, and he was beginning to wonder if Chouji would ever pick up. But soon he heard that familiar voice answer the phone irritably, asking, "What? I'm in the middle of my visit with Ino. Which you skipped out on, by the way, so shouldn't you be hanging out with your friend instead of calling me?"

Just barely managing to keep his irritation in check, Shikamaru began to effortlessly make up an intricate lie off the top of his head that would prevent Chouji from going home for the night.

**(XXX)**

At Konoha's soccer field, the evening was much brighter. Sakura was sitting on the first row of the bleachers, listening to the enthusiastic cheers of her schoolmates as they ushered the Konoha team on to their first victory of the season. And their only victory, if they kept playing like they had been so far. But thankfully, the team's MVP, who had been financed to study abroad in China for a few months, had finally returned and seemed there to stay. The name the crowd chanted was his alias—"Rock" Lee. Though usually he was the laughing-stock of his peers for his bowl-cut hair, bushy eyebrows, and loud personality, in the game of soccer his powerful legs and immovable spirit were living legends. He could kick the ball clear across the field if he wanted to, the teamwork of the other players revolved around him, and as a goalie he could block any shot without even trying. And above all else, he always supported the rookie players, practicing with them so that when they actually got on the field, he could kick the ball towards them, and be confident that they would score a goal. And whoever Lee was confident in, the other team members were too. All this and he still managed to have a wicked pitching arm in baseball, though that sport was much more of a hobby. Soccer, on the other hand, seemed to be his life.

Sakura knew Lee personally. On the first day of her freshman year, he'd enthusiastically confessed his love for her, claiming he'd admired her since middle school, and asked her to go out with him. Of course she rejected him, because the only thing she knew about him was that he looked kind of ugly, which he seemed to handle well. They continued on with their lives, but periodically over the years they ran into each other and talked. Each time, he confessed to her once more, was rejected, and then they talked about other things together. If Sakura thought about it, she was sure she'd remember several times where his kind words and quiet attention saved her when she was at her lowest, and through these encounters they'd become fairly good friends. Once or twice, she'd gone over to his house to study, and nowadays, she found herself attending some of his soccer games.

She smiled to herself and joined in the tumultuous applause that rose from the bleachers as Lee kicked the ball to a rookie member, who made Konoha's winning goal, and as the team carried the kicker around the field, the crowd shot out of the stands, and everyone made their way towards the two different teams. Sakura sat still and waited as all the people took their time meeting and congratulating the players, until the crowd eventually thinned out, and the Konoha members were getting ready to leave for their victory party.

Lee was shaking hands and speaking happily to all his team members in turn, eventually getting to his coach, Gai-sensei, who he hugged and they both began making a ruckus about "the burning passion of youth" and how it had carried them safely through to another victory. When she laughed out loud at this display, Lee heard her and looked up. She waved at him innocently. He told Gai something, probably asking him to go on ahead, then they parted ways and Lee sauntered over.

"Ah, Sakura-chan," He said, sitting down next to her on the bleachers. "You came to watch the game? Something must be wrong."

She frowned. "What makes you say that?"

"Because you only come watch my games when you want to talk about something serious," Lee said, laughing light-heartedly.

"I can't just support my friend's soccer match?" she said defensively.

"Hai, hai, gomen. Thank you for taking care of me."

Well, what he'd said was partially true, even if Sakura didn't want to admit it. There _was _something she wanted to talk with him about, because there was something special about their friendship that allowed her to be free with her words and feelings no matter what. Sure, it was annoying having a constant admirer, always asking her out, and trying to catch her eye. But Lee was the only friend she had who had seen the worst of her, and could still claim to love her. Times like these, when she needed a friend the most, he'd always been there for her.

"How was China?" she asked, trying to stave off the inevitable.

"Oh, it was great," Lee said, launching into an enthusiastic explanation of the incredible food, the family he stayed with while he visited, the shopping district, the classes, and how one little old senile Chinese man had tried to pants him the street. And speaking of pants, the mother of the family he'd stayed with made him a beautifully-designed set of dress-clothes, green with gold stitching, intricate patterns, and wide sleeves. He promised to show her sometime.

"Wow, China sounds great," Sakura said genuinely. "You thinking of going back there again?"

Lee smiled. "Maybe someday. But for now, I want to live out the next few years devoting myself to soccer and school in good old Japan."

"Good, I think our team would just give up if they had to go without their MVP any longer," Sakura said.

"They would do fine without me, if they could just be a little more confident in themselves," Lee shrugged. "Anyway, what have you been up to lately? Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Well …" She scratched her head. "You know I'm bipolar. I've … been having trouble with it lately, so Mom's had me put on some stronger meds, and … this weekend, I'll be having my first therapy session."

Lee was shocked. "That bad?"

"The therapy I chose on my own. You know Shikamaru from class 2-C, and Kiba who used to be in 3-C?" Lee nodded. "They both go to the same therapy sessions, and they were passing out fliers around the school and downtown. It's a group therapy session, and it seems to work for them, so I want to try it."

"I apologize," Lee said sympathetically, stretching an arm around her shoulder and hugging her close. She let him, closing her eyes comfortably. "How about when your session is over, we go out for ice cream and you can tell me all about it?"

She sat back up and smiled at him. "That sounds great."

He patted her on the back and stood up. "Hey, speaking of ice cream, you want to come with me to the victory party? Gai-sensei is taking us to a place that is famous for its desserts."

She stood as well. "Nah, it sounds fun, but I have a test tomorrow. I've already stayed late enough as it is."

"I understand. Be careful on your way home, okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Lee. Tomorrow I'll give you the details about the weekend."

"Alright. See you then."

"See you."

They waved goodbye and departed, Sakura into studious peace at her house, now that she and Lee had talked, and Lee into the throes of his team's celebration. The sky was free of clouds, and though the future was uncertain, for both Sakura and the soccer team, there were high hopes all around.

Little did Lee know, a demon of his own was lurking, hiding behind the field's bleachers.

**(XXX)**

Notes: KILL MEEEEEE. I'm soooo so sorry I didn't get this out earlier like I said I would in the notes for Little Wonders! (Speaking of "Little Wonders," that's my relatively new fic starring Naruto, Hinata, Gaara, and Lee, requested by my buddy Skitter160. Please go check it out, and request stories of your own!) I've been struggling with trying to get myself started writing, because once I get started, I have no trouble. But finally, today, I dived right in and gunned it all the way to the finish line. Sorry if the chapter seems a little bit crappy, but one way or another, I just had to get through it.

I really had a hard time writing the "creepy" scenes, because every time I would try, it would be at night, and I would get so creeped out envisioning the scenes that I would feel like even the air around me was out to kill me. Not to mention in the past couple months, I've stayed weekends at a friend's house, who is convinced her house is haunted, and didn't tell me until I got there, and once I got there started telling me all kinds of creepy stories. I've had the heebie-jeebies for what feels like years. So all that was part of what kept me from progressing. I dunno how well the creepy scenes get across as being creepy, but, well, whatever. At least this part of the serial is done and behind us now.

Don't worry, I'm working on my other fics too that I've been promising—like the Bleach and One Piece fics—it's just that everything is coming slow. But if you've been with me for a while, by now you know that. I'm sorry, I really will try to update more often. Now that my classes have started, maybe I'll be motivated to be a little more punctual, since I am forced to be when dealing with school assignments. In any case, I hope you appreciate this chapter, because I've been writing it from about midnight to seven A.M., and I still have homework to do. (I do this all for you! Please don't think I don't love and appreciate every one of you out there! T-T *Bows*)

Thank you so much for taking care of me! Please continue to support me, and rate, favorite, and review!


	12. Extra!: Unraveled

INTRODUCTION: So, another extra. This is kind of like a follow-up to the last chapter and it IS canonical. Just not necessary to the plot. Rather, I like to think of it as a supplement, and at least if I have it as a stand-alone, I won't have to worry about trying to shove it somewhere it might make sense in the other chapters.

This takes place about one month after Kiba visits Shikamaru's house, and encounters the strange events that happen inside the apartment.

**(XXX)**

"It's too dirty. Stains everywhere"

"You're already messy enough at my place, so what's the difference?"

"It's too small! Shikamaru and I already feel cramped living there."

"But he has therapy today, right? He'll be gone all evening!"

"Well, yeah, but …"

"Then why can't we study at your apartment?" Ino whined.

"Strange things happen in there," Chouji said. His chubby face was terribly grave.

Unfazed, Ino responded with an eyebrow raised, "Stranger than some of the junk you eat?"

How could he tell Ino the truth? Every person has their eyes play tricks on them at times when they're home alone in the dark. Everyone gets startled by a moving shadow, or a creak in the wall, from time to time. But some of the things Chouji had seen happening recently were too creepy for him to even tell Shikamaru about.

Like the time he was in the bathroom getting ready for bed, walked out for a minute, then came back in and found the whole bottle of Zylenol had been dumped into the sink and the medicine cabinet left wide open. Or the time when he came home to find the whole couch upended and dishes turned upside-down and arranged in a neat pattern all across the floor.

And then there was the time when he looked out the window and saw a young, pale boy staring up at him with dead eyes, and when Chouji turned away for only a moment, he turned back to find the boy had disappeared. He couldn't decide whether he was going insane, or someone was playing a prank on him, so he kept his mouth closed.

But the one thing he would not do is bring Ino into that mess with him. So while they sat at the lunchroom table talking, he came up with every excuse possible to keep her from deciding on coming. "Shikamaru doesn't like visitors." "You're intruding on a man's sanctuary." "We got a cat. You're allergic to those, right?" In the end, he managed to turn her away from the idea, but for how long, he didn't know. All he knew was that he had to keep her out as long as he could, just in case he wasn't hallucinating, and the safety of his apartment had somehow been compromised.

Especially because when he excused himself to go to the bathroom, when he went to wash his hands, he saw somebody else's face looking directly back at him in the mirror.

**(XXX)**

Notes: Just a short one this time. Kind of an apology for being so late with my last full chapter. Please continue to take care of me!


	13. All the Little Patches

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Naruto series/franchise. All the rights belong to Masashi Kishimoto and his partners. I am making absolutely NO PROFIT on this. Please consider this writing a fan-made project, written ONLY for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release of Naruto.**

INTRODUCTION: Well, guys, seems like in some ways, the Naruto series has been losing its luster. Intricate battles have turned to contests of who can shit the biggest jutsu—but I digress. The current war in our favorite shinobi realm is turning some viewers away, and makes me worried as to whether or not I will be able to hold onto a suitable fan-base while writing Naruto fan-fiction so often. Don't get me wrong, though—I will do my best to follow RHF through to its completion. This story has become important to me. It started off as me trying to find my way through the fan-fiction genre, and it remains true to that sense of navigating a brand new style. Even if the content isn't life-changing and it stays my little pretty pet, I still want to take care of it and let it grow. As long as this series has continued on, and as much wonderful support that I've received, even if I start to lose my motivation in the future, continuing to pursue the end of this fic will not be meaningless. Please continue to support me.

As for the content of this chapter … there's not much to say. I'm finally getting down to some things I should have already, as one concerned viewer pointed out to me (which I mentioned in the previous chapter's introduction). In other words, adding more characters. I will try to more skillfully deal with several characters at the same time, and try to be a little more mysterious about how I reveal certain aspects of the story, instead of huge gobs of information being thrown at you like I've done so often in the past. So in the meantime, help carry me all the way to end, won't you?

**(XXX)**

"Kiba, seriously, back off a minute," Shikamaru groaned in frustration.

Just barely visible over his shoulder was the top of Kiba's messy brown hair and his sharp eyes fixated on the apartment door. He cowered behind his friend's bent form, waiting for him to turn the key in the lock.

Shikamaru's eyes rolled as Kiba staunchly refused, still peeking at the door like it could jump out and smack him. He was about to turn the handle when Kiba hissed, "Wait! What if it's still inside?" He had good reason to be afraid, Shikamaru knew as he eyed the white bandages standing out garishly against the tan skin of Kiba's face. Only yesterday, he'd seen and dressed the wound itself, the evidence of how things were getting dangerous.

"Remember what I said earlier? Usually nothing bad happens when there's two people inside. Besides, we need to see what the damage is. You said there was a light that blew out, right?"

Kiba nodded.

"Well then, no use pussyfooting around. Either way, you know you'll have to get used to this if you want to keep on hanging out, right?" Shikamaru's face was tight-lipped and solemn, as Kiba's mouth opened and closed, the tips of his sharp canines moving in and out of view. "You can leave if you want, though."

With a deep frown, Kiba said, "What do you think I'm gonna do, dipshit?"

Shikamaru snorted, a little more pleased than he let on. "I think you'll set one foot inside, hear something creak, and run out with your tail between your legs." He sighed like the world was just one big perpetual problem. "Geez, if you're so worried, we should have picked up Akamaru before we came here."

"I already told you, Ma wouldn't let me leave again if I came home looking like this. We already got lucky enough that she let me spend the night at your parents' house. Otherwise who'd be here to back you up?" Now it was Kiba's turn to roll his eyes as Shikamaru raised an eyebrow indicating he clearly didn't think Kiba was much help. "Besides, Akamaru's been sick for a while. That's why I couldn't bring him to the sessions. I want to give him a little bit of time to recover before you make me take him ghost hunting."

"Just thought you could use a little reassurance." Kiba bristled at the smirk on Shikamaru's face, but didn't have time to bitch about it.

Already, Shikamaru was turning the handle and pushing the door open with a loud squeak. Kiba held his breath as that short black ponytail turned this way and that, following the inspection of sharp eyes. After what seemed like forever, Shikamaru looked over his shoulder to confirm that the coast was clear, and they both crept inside.

"Looks like it took out Ino's lamp," Shikamaru murmured, stooping to pick up a piece of the shattered remains of his house-warming gift, which he had tried very hard to save. He looked forlornly over at the broken shards of glass strewn about the room and the naked light-bulb in the ceiling, and suddenly felt very thankful the whole place hadn't gone up in smoke. He'd brought home the photo book with him and tossed it on the couch as he went to check the cabinets above the sink to make sure everything was still there.

"Dude, gross," Kiba said, forgetting all about his fear to start peeling the overturned plate of food from the carpet. He held his nose, watching as the food, still attached to the plate, slowly dripped off onto the floor. "This reeks."

"If you don't like it, stop fucking with it. You're gonna make it into a bigger mess." Shikamaru grouchily closed the last of the cabinets and rubbed the back of his neck. "And for your information, it's only on the floor because I dropped it when I got scared off."

Grimacing, Kiba complied and left the plate where it was.

"I'll go check the bedroom. You stay out here in case anything happens," Shikamaru quickly followed up on that as Kiba gave him a panicked look, "which it won't. Alright?"

After receiving a nod in affirmation, Shikamaru went to go investigate the bedroom. Kiba looked around the apartment warily, taking everything in at the same time, until his eyes landed on the black photo book on the couch. He leaned over the armrest and observed it curiously. He didn't remember seeing it there when he'd first come to the apartment, and hadn't noticed Shikamaru holding it.

Another cautious glance around the room and he was gently gripping the laminated cover in his rangy hands. He nervously opened the cover and looked away with a squeak, expecting something horrible to pop out, but instead, he found that it was full of happy family pictures. He immediately recognized Shikamaru's parents in most of them. He smiled a little to himself.

There was the clicking sound of the front door being opened again, and all of Kiba's senses screamed to life. A large man stepped into the doorway and they immediately locked eyes, both looking bewildered. Kiba slowly opened his mouth to try and speak, but nothing would come out.

With an incredible speed unbefitting of a man so heavy, the other man darted for the end table against the wall, jerked open the single drawer, and pulled out a heavy black revolver.

Kiba didn't think. He simply slammed the photo book shut and flung it at the man, knocking the gun right out of his hands. Stumbling back in surprise, he heard that thick voice yell, "Shit—!" and that was all it took for him to make a beeline for the bedroom. But the stranger utilized his swiftness once more and closed the distance between them in two steps, wrapping an arm around his neck tightly, cutting off the air flow. Eyes bugging, Kiba clawed desperately at the arm restraining him as he was dragged back to the entrance, where the gun lay. He reached down and picked it up with some difficulty, since Kiba was fighting his grasp like a deranged animal. Especially once he saw the light from the window glint off cold steel.

Shikamaru came running through the bedroom door into the living room the minute the man picked up the gun. "Hey, I heard some noise, is everything al—"

For what felt like only a millisecond, he locked gazes with the man holding Kiba by the neck, taking in the image of his friend's face already turning red from lack of air.

His eyes were soulless pits as he raced forward and decked the large man in the face, sending him crashing into the wall so hard that a picture frame fell off the wall, and almost as soon as the intruder's back hit the cool plaster, Shikamaru flew for him again.

Kiba, who was only just starting to get his breath back, reacted with a saving rush of instinct and flung the whole of his weight into Shikamaru's chest with a grunt, toppling the both of them over the side of the couch and onto their backs on the floor. They both rolled over painfully, and Kiba wheezed his breaths in and out painfully on the floor, though thankfully, Shikamaru observed, he wasn't having another panic attack.

"What the hell was that about, Shikamaru?!"

That voice sounded strangely familiar.

Sure enough, when Shikamaru looked up, he saw Chouji's flushed face from over the couch. "Shit, you caught me right in the side of my head! What the hell were you thinking?"

"That's _my_ line," Shikamaru seethed, suppressing boiling anger that threatened to bubble over. "What the hell were _you_ thinking?"

"I thought he broke into our house!" Chouji shouted in his defense, blanching. He'd never seen Shikamaru's eyes so red-hot with rage and was possessed by a fear of something he never realized, but should have been obvious. "I wasn't gonna kill him, just wanted to put some fear into him!"

"Chouji, since when would you _ever_ point a loaded weapon at someone? Do you know a thing about gun safety? Do you know a thing about the consequences?!" Sure, it was one thing if Chouji really felt the need to protect himself. But if that were the case, he already had Kiba by the neck, so he could have restrained him by that alone and called the police. Yet he picked up a gun with the explicit purpose of using it to threaten his captive. "What the hell is wrong with you lately, Chouji?"

"What do you mean, 'what's wrong with me'?!" Chouji shouted. "_You're_ the one who's been ignoring Ino while she's in the hospital to hang out with—probably this guy right here—and you didn't even come home at all last night, and you didn't call me this morning, or anything!"

"You didn't call to check on me either, you son of a—"

"Hold on a second!" Kiba rasped in a high-pitched voice, bringing the argument to a halt. He rubbed his aching neck as he finally got to his feet, and after clearing his throat asked, "Did you say Ino's in the hospital? Are you talking about Yamanaka Ino?"

Chouji nodded tentatively, still distrustful.

"Holy shit!" Kiba croaked. "What the hell happened to her?"

"See, Shikamaru?" Chouji began persecuting his roommate again. "Even _this_ guy is more worried about Ino than you!"

"Yeah, yeah, quit your bitchin', princess," Kiba grated out. Then he looked meaningfully at Shikamaru as he carefully stroked the beginnings of large purple bruises on his neck.

"Fine," Shikamaru growled at Chouji, splaying his arms. "Fine. You win. Let's go see Ino."

Casting a slightly wary look at Kiba, Chouji said, "Him too?"

Pushing past him, Shikamaru muttered, "He's going too, or else I'm not going at all."

Jaw dropping, Chouji whipped his head around to look at Kiba, bewildered and a bit angry. All Kiba could think to do is shrug and give Chouji's shoulder an apologetic pat. Then he followed that slumped figure out the door.

**(XXX)**

After a moment of hesitation, Ino leaned into Kiba, whispering. "So, are you and Shikamaru …?" Her eyes darted between the two boys in question. "You know."

As he sat next to her snow-white hospital bed, Shikamaru and Chouji having taken to quietly arguing in the doorway after the former checked up on her a bit, everything about Kiba's countenance said, 'Pardon?' He thought they'd come to talk to Ino about the cause of her bandaged head, but apparently, Ino's mind was on other matters.

Then again, it made a little bit more sense to him now why when the two of them had their friendly reunion, she kept staring at the both of them. He found it surprising she was so interested in the possibilities of his love-life, considering that she had been one of his girlfriends in the past, and they had parted on horrible terms. In fact, he didn't know how they were still friends at all, but one day her screams of 'Get lost, dickhead' had changed to 'Hey dog-breath, come look at this magazine! These celebrities are dumber than you!' They hadn't talked much about the whole 'incident' with him after it happened, but he suspected she'd been one of the most supportive people he knew. He'd regretted tossing away her phone number when they broke up, and never got it in his mind to get it from someone else and contact her again.

And here she was, sitting in a hospital bed like he had been not too long ago, acting right as rain, like they'd never stopped talking. Back straight, eyes aglow with thrilled surprise, as if Kiba had just snagged the latest issue of Rogue before anyone else, simply to make her holler and beg to look at it. Even now he felt like, if she would take him back, they could make it work, and be happy together. But he'd stopped dwelling on might've-been's.

When she began to speak again, Kiba had to lean in even closer to hear the church-mouse whisper, "There's just this real animal attraction going on between you two."

He blinked at her twice before a roar of hearty laughter was wrenched from his gut. "Oh yes, he's held me many times and whispered in my ear, 'Relax …'" Kiba snickered when Ino hit him, blushing furiously. She probably knew he was joking. "To be honest, I don't think either of us have thought about something like that for half a second—about anybody. Just too much going on." He raised his eyebrows at her, mimicking this habit of Shikamaru's in a way that made Ino cover her mouth to keep herself from laughing. "I hear you have a lot going on, too. Mind explaining how you got that hole in your head?"

"Oh, well, that …" Cerulean eyes drifted to the wall, uncertain. "I can't tell you that."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I haven't told them yet," Ino said, gesturing with here chin to the two quarrelers in the corner.

"So?"

She shrugged. "Wouldn't be fair."

Eyes narrowing sharply, Kiba's lips twisted into a slight frown. She was dodging the question. His smile quickly came back and he held a finger up to his lips. "Then it'll be our little secret."

"I can't, okay?"

"Since when are you so tight-lipped? Normally I can't get you to shut up." When Ino smiled, Kiba put a hand over hers and squeezed it. His tone was sincere in its quietness. "You can trust me. I won't tell anyone."

She hesitated. "Not even Shika?"

"Not even Shika."

She checked quickly to make sure the others weren't paying attention, then leaned in and quickly explained what had happened at school.

"She _what_?" Kiba nearly exclaimed, earning him a smack.

"Shut up!" she hissed.

With a growl, Kiba lowered his voice. "That classifies as assault! She put you in the hospital, for God's sake! You could have her charged for that shit! Why the hell haven't you told anyone?"

"Because it was _my _fault," Ino said. "I was just mad at her, and I said those things to her, even though I know she's been having a lot of … problems." She looked away upon seeing Kiba's puzzled expression. "My parents know her parents, and they say that emotionally, she seems like she's been through a lot. She cries up in her room all day, has horrible mood swings around other people, and stays up all night just staring in the mirror. Even though I knew all that, I said horrible things, because I was mad."

Kiba was seething. "I know you feel sorry for her, but that doesn't cut it. When you hurt someone, it doesn't matter why you did it or what went into it. It's _wrong_. You have to do something about this! She's a maniac!"

"She's my _friend_!" Ino shouted, calling the attention of everyone in the room. "… Or, she used to be." Clearing her throat, she talked so only Kiba could hear. "I've been doing a lot of thinking while I've been cooped up in this bed, Kiba. I think I understand how you felt when you … well … when those guys …"

A solemn nod kept her from spluttering further.

"But, Kiba … you have to understand that violence doesn't always just happen. Violence usually comes from people who have been hurt the most. And besides …" She paused, hesitant, before she said her next words. "Well, talk to Shikamaru some more, and see if you don't just change your mind."

Her tone was so impossibly quiet that Kiba almost wasn't sure he'd heard her at all. He stared blankly at her, feeling like something hit the off-switch in his brain. "What do you mean?"

She didn't get a chance to answer. Chouji shouted from across the room, holding the door open and looking out into the hallway.

"What's going on?" Ino called out.

Shikamaru rubbed his dim, tired eyes. "We all know Lee, right?"

Kiba and Ino nodded, a weight dropping in the pit of their stomachs.

"He just went by on a stretcher."

**(XXX)**

Putting away all the soccer equipment, checking the field and goals, and locking up the equipment room took longer than expected, and some of the players who'd volunteered their assistance were regretting having done so. However, thanks to the MVP's enthusiasm for pitching in, cleanup went a lot quicker than it could have. Even though most of the team had already gone on to the restaurant where they would celebrate their victory with dinner, the volunteers seemed lost in their interest of their senpai, who spoke while moving from task to task without ever stilling his working hands.

Takaga, a third-year who was relatively new to the team, seemed especially interested. He brushed an annoying brown forelock out of his face as he hovered around Lee, asking, "So are you from China? You already knew some Chinese before you started studying for your trip abroad, right?"

"My parents are Chinese," Lee answered, carefully wiping off a soccer ball with a rag. "But I was born in Japan. My grandparents do not know Japanese, however, so my parents taught me some basic Chinese so I could communicate."

"So your grandparents live in China, then?" Kanou, a regular, chimed in. "Then why didn't you live with them while you were there?"

"Well, since a living space is provided as part of the foreign exchange program, my family thought it would be simpler to just go ahead and follow what the program laid out for me. Besides, my parents say that my grandparents get sick of me quickly." Lee laughed affectionately at the thought as he put away the ball he'd polished. "But enough about me, we need to think about our victory today, and celebrate! I have finished cleaning the balls. Have you two cleaned everything up and checked all the lockers?"

Takaga nodded. "Sure. Nothin' on the floor, and all the lockers are locked."

"Great! Then let us lock up, and go check the field and the nets. If one of the team members left something important behind, leave it to me." Lee took the keys Gai had entrusted to him, once again filled with pride that his sensei in love, life, and sports felt Lee responsible, and after Takaga and Kanou had left, locked up the equipment room.

As far as checking the field was concerned, all they had to do was a quick scan of the area to make sure none of the members had left something, and then make sure the nets were fully-intact and there was no weakness or holes. They made quick work of their last task, and were finally ready to leave the field and walk a few blocks to the restaurant where the rest of their team was waiting.

But before they could begin walking, Kanou stopped, looking towards the bleachers, and nudged Lee in the arm. "Hey, senpai. Look over there."

"Hm?" Lee looked to where Kanou was pointing. "What is it?"

"I think there's a guy back there behind the bleachers. Red hair, a little short. I think he's lookin' at us."

Just as Kanou had said, when Lee looked over he saw a suspicious-looking young man staring at them from the shadows of the bleachers. His piercing, icy stare could be felt even from that distance.

"Oh, yeah, him," Takaga said. When Lee looked to him for explanation, he quickly followed up. "The last couple of games I've seen him hanging out, watching the games back in that same spot. I volunteered for cleanup, too, and he would still be there every time. Kinda creepy—always felt like his eyes were in the back of my head."

Kanou shivered. "Dude, he's looking straight at us. Let's just get out of here."

Lee, who'd had a thoughtful expression up until now, suddenly plopped his fist into his other hand, and as if having the greatest epiphany said loudly, "Oh, I know! He must be a fellow enthusiast, but is too shy to come forward! Well, in that case, how could I leave things like this?! Takaga-kun, Kanou-kun! Please go on without me! I must perform my duty as a member of the prestigious Konoha Beasts**(1)**!"

His kouhais stared at him like he was mental, but this didn't deter him in the slightest. He was already running towards the bleachers, waving them away as he ran.

"Should we do something, Takaga-san?" Kanou asked. He eyed the man behind the bleachers once more. "That guy seems suspicious."

"You're right," Takaga said. "But after all, Rock-senpai's straightforwardness is what makes him special. Come on, let's let him do his thing." He ushered Kanou along with a hand, though the latter still seemed hesitant, and they both left the field empty except for the strange boy and Lee, who was fast coming up on him.

**(XXX)**

The morning sun was playing lazily over Lee's bed when he saw his old classmate walk through the door to his hospital room. Seeing that familiar lanky physique, mussed-up hair and needle-like pupils sent him sprawling onto his wounded foot as he dove and wrapped his old friend in a hug.

"Kiba-kun!" he cried enthusiastically. "Is it really you? Long time no see!"

Grunting under his senpai's grip, Kiba rasped, "It's really me, so could you let me go? My eyes are about to pop out." He gave Lee a gentler hug in return once he was relinquished.

Lee waved at Shikamaru, Chouji, and Ino individually as they walked in behind. "More of my friends? What are you all doing here?"

"We were visiting Ino here in the hospital and we saw you being wheeled in," Shikamaru explained. "We've been trying to visit you for the past three days but they wouldn't let us in."

Lee's jaw dropped. "Ino-chan was in the hospital? Oh—oh—!" He tried to run to Ino but stumbled and was caught by Kiba. Ino was about to meet him halfway with an embrace, but she stopped and covered her mouth, staring at Lee's left leg in shock.

Bruised and mangled into dark purple and red from just below the knee down to his ankle, his whole leg physically appeared nigh unusable. That he could put weight on it at all was amazing.

Three other wide-eyed gazes joined Ino's as she grabbed him hysterically. "Lee, what happened to you?"

"Ah—" He looked away, suddenly finding a crack in the wall to be very interesting. "After the school soccer game, I was attacked. My team and I had just finished cleanup and we were leaving when my kouhai saw someone on the far end of the field. He seemed to recognize the person from previous soccer games, so I went over to say hello, and …" Breaking off, he brandished his left arm, which was slightly less destroyed. "He got my arm, too, but not as badly. And luckily, he relented before my arm and leg were crushed."

"Crushed?" Ino squeaked.

Lee looked at the wall again. "I took him to see the equipment room on the field, but when I opened the door, he pinned me against the wall and began slamming the door against my arm and leg, which were caught in the entryway. I was saved thanks to my teammates who were about to leave the field when they heard me shouting. One of them pulled the guy off of me while the other called the police."

Kiba helped Lee over to his bed, lifting the injured leg onto the bed when he saw his senpai struggling. He trembled, eyes fixed nervously on the wounds as he did so.

"He just attacked you?" Shikamaru asked. "With no indication beforehand?"

Lee shook his head. "None. My parents informed me that the police discovered, after interviewing the attacker, that he had been on medication for quite a while, but had missed his dose that day. They believe that chemical imbalance is what caused the violence."

"That has to be one serious imbalance for him to just go apeshit after missing one day," Chouji breathed, putting an arm around Ino to comfort her.

"There has to be something else behind it," Kiba said, voice wavering. "People don't just _do_ that."

"Some people do, Kiba-kun," Lee sighed. "Sometimes they really can't help it. You can relate at least a little, right?"

Actually, he'd heard more about his attacker than he let on, but he decided to keep that bit of information for himself. He had his own uses for it.

Shikamaru stepped in and put a hand on Kiba's shoulder, warding off another set of shivers. "What did the doctors say about your recovery?"

Smiling grimly, Lee said, "Oh, I'll be in a cast and on crutches for about a month or two." That meant a month or two without sports or any physical activity, which everyone in the room knew would mean misery for him. "Come on, let us talk about happier things. How have you been since you left Konoha, Kiba-kun? You have to tell me everything."

He didn't get a chance to. The door to Lee's room swung open again and the floor was quickly filled with men in freshly-pressed black suits. About five of them stepped in, looking straight at Lee, before a sixth walked in, roughly ushering in a pale-faced boy who had recently become all too familiar.

"Clear the room," one of the suits instructed Lee's friends gruffly. Kiba, Chouji, and Shikamaru tensed, stepping forward to engage in confrontation, but Lee held out a hand to stop them.

"Forgive me, everyone, but could you obey them for now? I believe we have some business to attend to."

He stared reassuringly into their worried faces until they reluctantly pushed past the suited men and left the hospital room. Then he sat up straighter as his bed was approached. His heart skipped a beat slightly as he was brought face to face with the piercing gaze of the boy who'd been ushered in.

His attacker.

"We thought it would be best to visit you in person," the same black suit spoke, "since this young man has given you so much trouble. His family would have liked to be here to apologize themselves, but unfortunately his father is so ashamed he could not bear to look you in the eye."

Eyes flickering between the numerous men crowding ominously over his bedside, Lee asked, "And who are you exactly?"

"We're servants of his father's. We've been asked to present this young man to prostrate himself and beg for your forgiveness."

Lee's interest was piqued at the word 'servants.' So this kid's father had a good chunk of money in his pocket. Probably some prestige, too. However, there was something bigger on his mind. "To what purpose?"

The men looked at each other, as if telepathically deciding whether or not to reveal their motives. Since they seemed intending to keep their silence, Lee said, "You are here about the charges. Are you not?" The air thickened enough to suffocate. "I believe this matter has already been discussed with my parents …"

"It has. But we were hoping you could influence their decision in some way. If you forgive him and advocate for his innocence, they might change their minds."

"I'm sure you already know about the state of this boy's mental health," another man said. "Going to court would sully his family's reputation even more than his medical issues already have, when the incident was out of his control."

Lee looked towards his attacker whose eyes were glowing sharply, poised like an animal at the door to its cage. Sure, these men could say he was innocent by way of insanity, but he wondered if the answer wouldn't be different coming from the mouth of the beast.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

The boy didn't answer until one of the men kicked him. "I don't know. I can't remember."

"Not even a little bit? There must be some reason you lashed out like that."

"I don't even know what I did," the boy droned, weary of the world around him. "I don't even remember being at the soccer field. By that time, I had already blacked out."

'Blacked out?'

Lee nearly sprang forward out of his seat as one of the men prepared to kick the boy again for giving an unsatisfactory answer. "For the love of God, leave him be!" He took a deep breath to steady himself and his heart, trying to annul some of his fear of the boy in front of him and the men crowded around.

"Your name … it's 'Gaara,' right?"

Ears perking, the boy nodded.

"I would like to talk to you alone for a moment." Lee looked around at the men. "May I?"

"Are you sure you want to do that?" he was asked.

"Would I have asked you otherwise?"

The men all shared another glance. Then they released Gaara and slowly filed outside, leaving the two boys standing awkwardly across from each other.

"Well," Lee said eventually, gesturing to a chair beside the bed. "Go ahead and have a seat. This will not take long."

Gaara contemplated the chair carefully, as if expecting it to betray his ass once he sat down. But after careful examination he slowly lowered himself into the seat with his elbows on his knees and proceeded to size Lee up.

Lee had something in mind, but he wasn't exactly sure how to begin. So he started with simple questions. "How old are you, Gaara-kun?"

A deep frown formed in the other boy's face at the honorific. "Seventeen."

"Oh, the same age as me," Lee nodded to himself, satisfied, almond eyes rolling over the walls as he thought up his next question. Then he looked back to catch those analytical eyes.

"What school do you go to?"

He waited, staring expectantly, and only received one in return. After about fifteen seconds passed by with his question unanswered, he looked back to the ceiling, fishing for his next source of conversation.

Then he heard a quiet, rough voice speak tightly. "Sunagakure."

Some light was restored in Lee's eyes and he sat up at the mention of Konoha's rivals in the neighboring dusty town. "You go to school in Suna? I have played a couple soccer games against the Suna soccer team, and they had incredible vitality. I heard the team captain practiced nearly all day every day in the blazing-hot sun for weeks at a time last summer." All the nearby cities knew of the hardy, dedicated citizens of Suna, and had earned the respect of their neighboring cities.

"Most children in Konoha nowadays spend their time playing with new technology, but I heard that in Suna people prefer to make their fun by improvising with whatever they already have. I also heard that many teenagers there are proficient in martial arts. I wonder why Konoha teens and Suna teens are so different?"

A slight twinge in Gaara's expression made him seem conflicted. "Suna is a city of the military."

Lee was smart enough to know what Gaara was saying. He dipped his head in agreement. "Ah, then that must be why people like the soccer captain train during the summer. I hear the heat in Suna could burn a hole through the ground in Hell." If you train in the heat and dust, and you were raised to rely on what you had as opposed to technology, no matter what you do—play or practice—you would build up endurance and skill.

The room fell to silence as Lee picked at his fingernails nervously with his good hand. He could feel those eyes drilling holes in his head. He wasn't sure what to say—there was something he wanted to address, but couldn't find the words to do it with.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Gaara asked quietly.

Lee paused, hands stilling. "Well," he said, fishing for any other way to respond, but eventually settling on "I would be lying if I said I am not. Considering what has happened, I have the right."

The shorter boy stiffened, and a cold, dark look entered his expression. With a sigh, Lee sat back and stared upwards, wrestling with something. Then he sat back up, seeming empowered, and with his fingers bridged over his lap leaned towards Gaara with a smile.

"Nee, Gaara-kun, have you ever visited the Houteibanri Hospital**(2)** in Suna?" He watched Gaara stiffen even further, filled with alarm. He didn't wait for an answer. "When I was very young, about five or six, I stayed there for a long time. My parents had moved to the outskirts of Suna as part of my father's work for a while, and one day while playing in front of my house, I ran out into the street to chase a squirrel and was hit by a car. I was nearly paralyzed from the waist down. I spent a year being rehabilitated in that hospital."

Gaara's eyes searched him uncomprehendingly. He was tense in a dangerous way, but less dangerous than when Lee had first started talking. "Why are you telling me this?

Shrugging, Lee said, "I wonder?" and looked at the far wall. "I met many good people there. In fact, my best friend lived at that hospital, even after I left. He was a very sad person. I only ever wanted to see him smile."

Nobody spoke. They both looked at the wall, as if something enlightening were there at the place where their gazes intersected.

Then, strangely curious, Gaara asked, "Did he?"

Lee gave him a somber smile. "Once." He quickly jumped back to the task at hand. "You really don't remember anything? There was no reason for your actions—no intent?"

He then placed one hand on the small of his own back and pushed it forward in a stretch. "Well, enough of that. You did not come here to listen to me prattle." He bridged his fingers again. "Gaara-kun, I will be straightforward. I do not want you to apologize for anything you do not feel sorry for, or for you to be made to feel indecent for not being sorry. The reason you attacked me is unclear, but you obviously have no remorse. In fact, going off of what you claim, you were not conscious of the fact that you attacked me at all. How could I persecute you if you cannot remember what you did? And since your escorts seemed very oppressive of not only you but I as well, for both our sakes I will not press charges against you."

Eyes narrowing to threatening slits, Gaara said, "So I see you've already negotiated with my handlers."

Lee looked blankly at him, caught on the word 'handlers.' "Excuse me?"

Somewhere deep inside that hateful stare, there was a twinge of hurt. "How much are they paying you to forgive me?"

Finally catching on, Lee raised his hands in defense. "Goodness, no! I would never ask something like that!" In the back of his mind, he was still tripping over the strange words Gaara had used. They filled his stomach with uneasiness.

Gaara's expression indicated that he didn't believe him. "Why else wouldn't you press charges?"

"Because in all honesty, I would simply rather not," Lee said firmly, aiming a frown at the red-head beside him. "I have already explained to you my reasoning. This is a decision I have made not for money's sake, but my own." When he received a confused glare in return, he simply shrugged and looked out the window. "You do not have to understand it. But I made the choice on my own." He turned, looking resolutely into the other boy's eyes. "Okay?"

Lee had the feeling this kid would stare at him all day if allowed to. So he shifted painfully to the other side of the bed, dragged himself to his feet and used the wall as a crutch to walk to the door. The whole time Gaara merely watched him with some level of fascination, until Lee opened the door and told the escorts he was finished. They crowded around the door, trying to get in, but Lee blocked them with a powerful, sinewy arm. He gestured to Gaara with his chin, and stepped aside to let him pass as he walked towards the door.

The short boy cast a dark-rimmed glance over his shoulder at Lee in his hospital gown with his big eyebrows and bowl-cut hair, and the free pass he'd promised. He still seemed uncomprehending, searching for enlightenment in the odd face behind him.

Lee answered his gaze with a gentle smile. He saw the boy off with a wave, saying, "Goodbye, Gaara-kun."**(3)** Then he closed the door and started crawling along the wall back to his bed, just as Shikamaru, Kiba, Chouji, and Ino entered the room once more.

**(XXX)**

As Zetsu hurriedly counted bills in the alleyway, his mouth set in a thin line. Usually he could leisurely tally up the profits, but lately the police were watching the streets more closely at night, and so he was forced to make quick work.

"Is this all the money you've got for me?" he said, eyeing the young man who was already looking over the goods he was to receive, pulling small plastic baggies out of the old beat-up duffel bag they'd been brought in, checking to make sure everything was in order.

"I can't help it—that Sabaku kid was supposed to meet me tonight for a trade-off, but he never showed. He's a big part of my income." Grimacing, the man held up one of the bags, inspecting it under the moonlight. "Damn. There's enough heroine in this batch to kill a man three times over."

"Since you were selling so well, we decided to raise your quota." Putting his handful of money back in the knapsack full of bills he'd been given, Zetsu slung it over his shoulder, leveling the young man with a warning gaze just as he finished his inspection. "We'll contact you again in a couple of weeks. By then I hope you'll have had better luck on the sales front.

"Alright." The young man carefully pulled the duffel bag over his back. "In a few weeks, then." He turned to leave, but was stopped by the sound of Zetsu's voice.

"Neji," he said sternly. The young man turned back to him. "Sometimes deals fall through, but we're counting on you now." His eyes flashed darkly in the glittering night. "Don't screw up again."

The other man nodded. He didn't need to be reminded of what a dangerous game he was playing. He had decided long ago that proving himself here was much more important than his own safety. That meant that in a few weeks, he'd have to pay the piper again. He had his work cut out for him this time around, especially if that Sabaku kid skipped out on him again.

But the fact that it would be challenging wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He turned and left for good, keeping a casual pace to avoid looking suspicious to any passersby, and slowly began winding his way back home. In his mind, he was already preparing for the work that was to come.

**(XXX)**

**(1)** – I'm sure you can guess this is a reference to Gai and Lee's Beautiful Green/Blue Beast bit.

**(2)** – Houteibanri Hospital is completely contrived. In other words, it does not exist canonically in the Naruto manga universe. According to Nihongodict, the word 'houteibanri' means "(over) a great distance; (a long journey (flight, voyage)) to (from) a faraway place." Houteibanri Hospital is not only a mental hospital, but also a hospital for people being treated for long-standing diseases or conditions. The symbolism is that the time patients spend there is representative of "a long journey to a faraway goal."

**(3) **– Technically, Lee is saying "See you/Later" as opposed to "Goodbye." In other words, he is saying 'ja ne' as opposed to 'sayonara.' This is important, because it indicates he is bidding a friend goodbye until another day that will come soon, instead of expecting to never meet Gaara again.

Notes: I'm such a piece of crap with introducing characters this time around. Please forgive me. I dunno if the writing is any good either. And as for the delay, the only excuse I can provide is that a lot of shit has happened lately. However, it's three in the morning, and I don't really want to go into all that right now. Thank you for reading, and to all my fans who have supported me, and all my new fans who are jumping on the crazy train. I love you all. Please make requests and continue to usher me along if I get slow.

Hopefully in the next day or so I will also be gifting you with an Extra as recompense for my lateness. It'll be a much cheerier one in comparison with the previous Extras, and hopefully a little longer. Please wait for that in anticipation! Rate, review, and love me. For God's sake, please love me like I love you.


	14. Skirting Around the Problem

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Naruto series/franchise. All the rights belong to Masashi Kishimoto and his partners. I am making absolutely NO PROFIT on this. Please consider this writing a fan-made project, written ONLY for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release of Naruto.**

INTRODUCTION: I am never promising anything on a deadline basis again. I totally screwed my friend over with a promise to do a drawing in a certain amount of time, and now I'm paying the price for it ten-fold. I've cheated all of you guys, too, when I said I would do shit on time and then didn't. T-T So I'm just gonna let things continue to be a surprise. Nonetheless, this is not a time for sadness! Well, it kinda is, considering what RHF is, but … whatever. Stuff happens! People get uncomfortable! But they'll get over it.

Love you all~. Thanks so much for your support.

(RHF HAS MORE THAN 6,000 VIEWS OVERALL! YEEEEEAH! THANK YOU EVERYBODY! I'd promise a 6k celebration present but … you know. The whole promises thing. That I just told you about.)

**(XXX)**

"Sasuke-temeeee, I thought you said the student council would be bustling."

Just ignore him. The festival's expense report isn't gonna write itself.

"Sasukeeeeee."

The cooking club wants a hundred dollars**(1)** to buy the ingredients for teriyaki. The baseball team needs money for lumber. And the debate team—

I jump, feeling the familiar weight of an idiot on my shoulder.

"Naruto," I seethe, "how many times have I told you to get off me?"

What I'd hoped would be an unbearably icy stare has no effect on him at all. He ignores me, frowning as he leans on me even more. "Why are you doing paperwork? Shit's boring."

"Yeah, but it's necessary," I shake him off. "Besides, it's the only thing around here to do right now."

The end of the year is approaching, and with it the Konoha school festival. All the other high schools in the area have their festival as soon as spring comes, but we always have ours late. The principal wants us to stand out, and since all the other schools have already had their festivals, we get kids from other schools nearby who come visit, and more people attend the Konoha festival annually as a result. This way, kids who have friends in other schools don't have to feel bad about not being able to attend a friend's festival.

Usually the student council room is bustling this time of year. I was elected vice president this year, but I haven't really been pulling my weight. Between therapy, this dipshit over my shoulder, and all the questions people have been asking me about my clothes and my life, if I haven't had the time to show my face, I've tried to avoid it. But last year when the president asked me to help out with the festival, this room was packed to the brim with people asking for money, assistance, or just hanging out to see if anything needed to be done. Naruto has been constantly complaining recently that he's bored and we should go somewhere fun. I told him to go bother somebody else, but he won't leave me alone. Sometimes I even punch him, and we get into big fights like we did at the park, but he still doesn't take a hint. So I figured if I took him here, if I was lucky, he'd get swept off in a crowd of people and spend all day out of my hair.

No such luck. The school's like a ghost town today. Where is everybody when I need them?

"Come on, Sasuke," Naruto pleaded. He finally got off of me, jumping up to sit on a clear space on the table. "You can't be having fun. And I'm not, either."

I put down my pen and glare up at him. "I honestly don't give a shit how you feel."

His face twists into a deep scowl, and I feel a moment of triumph.

Then he gets off the table and dives for my feet. I have to hold onto the table to keep my chair from toppling over.

"Hey, what the hell are you—?!"

He brandishes my shoes with a smile. "I think you need to kick off your high-heels, sister!"

My face contorts in horror. "Usuratonkachi!"

He runs to the doorway before I can grab him, dangling his hostages to taunt me. "Now you'll have a chance at catching me!" He dashed out into the hallway, laughing.

"Get back here, you asshole!" I run out after him, seeing him already almost halfway down the hall. "I could catch you even in high-heels! You're dead!"

I chase him down within a few seconds, tackling him to the ground. If only he would give up that easily, but I have to wrestle with him, rolling on the floor while I try to get the shoes out of his hands.

"Hand them over."

"No!"

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"They smell like feet!"

"_Don't smell them, you idiot_!"

This is so irritating. He's not even taking me seriously. He's dissolving into a fit of laughter, snagging the shoes out of my hands just when I get a grip.

"Come on, Sasuke-teme," he says, eyes glittering bright blue. "Live a little."

I finally manage to rip my shoes from his grasp. "I'll do that on my own time." Then I turn, walking quickly down the hallway, back towards the student council room.

"That's not how it woooorks, Sasukeeeee!"

I feel something slam into my back, and somebody's legs encircling my waist, and two broad arms around my neck.

"Gimme those shoes!"

Is he …?

"Can I borrow them sometime?"

Is he seriously …?

I hear another voice approaching from down the hall. I turn to look and all the color drains from my face.

It's the student council president.

"Ah, Uchiha … just the person I was looking—"

He stops, staring blankly at me. I stare back. Naruto turns to look at him down the hall.

"Ara? He your friend, Sasuke?"

I give Naruto a suplex he'll never forget.

**(XXX)**

"I wasn't aware you could be so friendly with people, Uchiha."

The Student Council President, Hyuuga Neji, sat across a table from Sasuke in the council room, humorlessly assessing both the vice president and the blonde stranger still rubbing his head and glaring at the raven-haired boy beside him.

"I wouldn't be if I didn't have to," Sasuke sighed. When Neji peered at him questioningly, he simply said, "Let's not talk about him right now. What do you need from me?"

"The literature club put in a last-minute request for funds to build their own booth."

"What? Didn't we offer them money already?" The literature club at Konoha High was very quiet. Unlike most of the high-schoolers who felt arrogance with even a little knowledge of classical poetry and novels, the literature club members didn't interact with many others outside their circle, and were known for being humble. Since every once in a while they helped tutor other students, some of the other clubs had chipped in some money to give to the literature club so they could set up a booth at the festival.

"We offered three times, but they staunchly refused," Neji said, eyes darkening in annoyance. "Then, just yesterday, I received word from their captain that they would like their money after all."

"We've already spent their money, though," Sasuke said.

"I know. We couldn't hold onto it any longer after they refused so many times. But it's strange—they seem to urgently need the money, because after I clarified there was no money left for them, they sicced the health teacher on us."

"The health teacher—you mean Yakushi-sensei? Since when do they have influence with him?"

"Since when do they have influence with anybody?" Neji sighed, crossing his arms, fingers tapping on his forearm. "They don't even associate with the literature teachers."

"What did Yakushi-sensei say to you?"

"He was very passive-aggressive. He said that we shouldn't deny the literature club their funds the way we denied the science club's, especially when we'd made such a big deal out of offering them money in the first place."

Sasuke frowned. "We didn't give the science club their money?"

The president shook his head. "The request came in on a day you were not available. Eitarou, your stand-in, denied them money on the grounds that they had not yet spent the money we gave them for their regular day-to-day activities last month, and therefore could already pay for themselves."

"The science club, you said?" Naruto chimed in all of a sudden. "They weren't denied."

He received a narrowed stare. "Excuse me?"

"When I was in here earlier and Sasuke was writing up these papers, I took a peek over his shoulder. Take a look." Naruto shuffled through some of Sasuke's papers and picked one out, handing it to Neji. "See? Somebody approved a request to give the science club a hundred-and-fifty dollars just a couple weeks ago. And you can tell it wasn't Sasuke because the hand-writing is different."

Sasuke looked up at Naruto in amazement. That usuratonkachi was actually paying attention? Wasn't he just wandering around the room bored? Even Neji seemed shocked as he eyed the expense report.

"That means that they either spent their regular funds already, or were given an exception," Naruto said, eyes flicking over to Sasuke for confirmation.

"Either way, it means Eitarou lied," Neji said darkly. "But I'm not sure why he would be foolish enough to write down the evidence of his lying. This smells of fraud, but for all we know, someone's just trying to lead us around the bush. I'd like to investigate this, but this was timed really well—we're too close to the festival to stir up trouble."

"Don't tell me …" Sasuke groaned.

"Approve their request," Neji said, sounding equally dissatisfied. "For now, we'll see how the situation progresses. But …" A malicious glint appeared in his eye like the quiet smirk of a predator—the look of cold steel that had earned Neji the presidency. "The minute the booths come down, I intend to focus all effort on a witch-hunt."

He stood, which Sasuke knew was a signal of departure. But as he reached the doorway, the president stopped with his hand on the frame and turned back, staring straight at Naruto's still-serious, -piqued face.

"Tell me your name."

With a smile, he took a few long strides and met Neji purposefully at the door with an outstretched hand. "I'm Uzumaki Naruto. Nice to meet you."

Neji's stare bore a hole through Naruto's hand. "… I'm Student Council President Hyuuga Neji." That piercing lavender gaze rose to examine Naruto's face. "… You're Uchiha's friend?"

Naruto glanced back at Sasuke. "I guess you could say that."

"Well then, Uzumaki," Neji addressed him sharply, "I've been very courteous in excusing Uchiha for his long absences, but I have no obligation to cater to you. There's nothing left to do here today, so leave. You'll only distract Uchiha if you stay." He shot a meaningful glare at Sasuke too, since Naruto's presence was partially his fault. Then the president left without another word.

Huffing, Naruto said, "Not even a 'thank you?' Geez." He walked back over to Sasuke, who had gone back to puzzling over the expense reports feverishly after Naruto pointed out the science club's expenditures. "That guy has his head screwed on way too tight."

"He can't help it—he's the president. There's probably a lot of pressure on him this time of year. And he has a right to order you around anyway—you were wasting space until just a moment ago."

They heard someone come in and looked up in panic, thinking that Neji had heard them. But then Sasuke's eyes widened as he saw who it was that hobbled in on crutches with a goofy smile.

"Lee!" he nearly shouted as he jumped from his seat.

"Sasuke-kun! I just saw Neji outside, so I hoped you might be in here." Lee's eyebrows arched thickly in a smile. His face was as bright as ever, but his leg wasn't looking so good. He leaned on the table to take the weight off of it, eyeing Sasuke's feet. "Those are some very lovely shoes. Are they new?"

Sasuke looked away awkwardly. Lee was embarrassingly sincere. Even though he and Sasuke didn't know each other well, the upperclassman had always been kind and supportive to Sasuke, and was genuinely polite. Where Neji was a stone-cold systematic president, Lee was a dedicated but warm boy who Sasuke sometimes got into arguments with, but for the most part, was tolerable.

Lee's bright almond eyes shifted to the blonde at Sasuke's side, whose mouth was wide open in shock. "Oh? And our slack-jawed friend would be …?"

"Ah—"

Before Sasuke could take his next breath, Naruto was nearly nose-to-nose with Lee, gasping in admiration.

"Look at those eyebrows! _Fuck_!" Awe-inspired, Naruto pressed his thumbs against the two bushels of hair resting above Lee's eyes. "This is awesome! How do they clip on? Where did you get them?!"

Sasuke gave him a swift foot to the ass, launching the whiskered boy to the side like a short-lived rocket.

"Oi!" Naruto screeched, rubbing his backside gingerly. "Th'fuck was that for, Sasuke-teme?"

"Please excuse this moron. Unfortunately, he's under my command today, so I'll take responsibility."

"Whose command am I under?" Naruto protested, shielding his side from another kick.

Discomfort rippled across Lee's face. Sasuke just barely caught a slight twitch in his senpai's eye before it was covered up with a warm smile. "Do not crush his enthusiasm, Sasuke-kun." Lee turned to the fallen boy, setting aside one crutch and leaning carefully on the other as he extended an arm. "Here—on your feet, now."

Naruto had the sense to look guilty, and stood on his own, handing the other crutch back. "No, it's fine, you shouldn't have to help me when you're like this …"

Lee smiled widely and his voice raised a decibel, his words puffing out like the ghost of throaty laughter. "So humble! Yet where was your grace when you had your hands on me? There is a time for outburst and a time for restraint—ah, this is how a man should be …!"

"You give people way too much credit at first meetings," Sasuke warned, but he had to smirk at Naruto's confusion. "What's with this misplaced excitement?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, I have just been longing to see new faces!" A frown formed sternly on Lee's tanning face. "Even when I come by to visit the Student Council, why are there not more volunteers hanging around, when there's so much work to be done?"

"Volunteer work, huh? Is that why you came by today? You've already put in your community service, senpai—give yourself a break."

Lee laughed at the notion, holding his hand out to Naruto again. "I am second-year student Rock Lee! I am captain and widely-regarded MVP of the Konoha High soccer team! How about you join the team?"

Naruto shook his hand and smiled. "I am free-loader Uzumaki Naruto! I am home-schooled and proficient in unskilled labor! And thanks for the offer, but soccer is for Europeans!" He looked at Sasuke, face glowing with excitement. "This is your senpai? He seems pretty cool! He's a lot nicer than you." He grinned at Lee again. "Can I call you 'Fuzzy-Brows?'"

A simple shrug was all the confirmation Naruto needed to start rolling the nickname around on his tongue under his breath. Lee left him to bask in his strange joy to drop himself gratefully into a chair Sasuke pulled out for him.

"Thank you, Sasuke-kun," Lee said, stretching his back and arms. "You still have not told me about those new shoes!"

"Forget the shoes," Sasuke sighed. They both fell to silence for a moment beneath the mumblings of Naruto to the side. He gestured to Lee's legs. "You gonna tell me what happened?"

Lee gave Naruto and Sasuke a quick rundown of the incident on the soccer field. Both watched him, concerned, and secretly exchanged uneasy glances from time to time. When Lee mentioned dropping the charges, Sasuke intercepted, saying, "Why are you pardoning him? Look at yourself—the whole left half of your body is screwed up."

"As for my reasons …" Lee shrugged, avoiding Sasuke's eyes in an uncharacteristic show of discomfort. "It includes a long story I will share when I know you better. I just don't want him to be punished."

Even though this comment was duly noted by Sasuke's stern face, he let it go for the moment. "Well, it's a criminal matter, right? He can still be charged, if someone wants to pursue the case."

"In this case, not so much. Apparently, my attacker's family is of high social standing, so pulling some strings in the courtroom is not a problem … in fact, I have been in contact with them, and when another prosecutor tried to take up the case, his efforts were all but ignored, and it took no time at all for the judge to declare my attacker not-guilty by reason of an insanity which was previously stated by family."

"So what, they just gave this asshole a free pass?" Sasuke seethed.

"Well, no. He is required to go to a court-appointed therapist. And speaking of that …" Lee looked beseechingly up at his kouhai. "Your therapist is still taking new patients, right?" Sasuke shot him a wary glance. "Well … after talking with my attacker's family, I have learned that they are struggling greatly with legal intricacies regarding the issue that … for some reason, they keep having to switch him to new therapists, and some of them have refused to take him, even at the risk of losing their jobs."

"Oh, so you want to ask Kakashi-sensei to take up the slack," Naruto chimed in cheerily, gaze still flickering periodically to the novelty of Lee's eyebrows.

"Yes. I was hoping since Sasuke-kun's therapist is working out, I could have this boy's family contact him."

"Hey, if therapists are risking going up against the court to avoid this kid," Sasuke bit, "why would I want him in the same program as me? Why would I risk exposing him to another person in the first place?"

"Don't be like that, Sasuke-teme," Naruto growled with startling authority. "If Fuzzy-Brows has faith in him, let's have faith too. Here, Fuzzy, let me give you the number you need to call …" He grabbed for the nearest piece of paper and was starting to write on it when Sasuke snatched the page out of his hands.

"Naruto," he warned.

The man in question planted his hands firmly on the table, meeting Sasuke dead-on with a rivaling glare. His posture dared Sasuke to argue with him. "What now, teme?"

Sasuke kept a level stare with him for a few moments, not saying a word. Then, he withdrew the paper, saying, "You were about to mark on my expense reports, idiot." He brought a clean sheet and handed it over. Face brightening, Naruto threw the sheet onto the table and began scribbling down Kakashi's number. Sasuke watched, crossing his arms in dissatisfaction, foreboding shivers running down his spine with every pen-stroke.

**(XXX)**

The mall had been bustling, and this particular store especially, since it was a brand-name fashion store. Sasuke had been dragged here against his will by Naruto, for no reason that was specifically stated. But since they were in a clothing store and Naruto had disappeared off into a changing room the minute they stepped inside, Sasuke guessed he wanted fashion advice. The notion made Sasuke bristle. A lot of girls at school assumed that because he wore a skirt, he was gay, and that gay guys were always the best with fashion. Sasuke was none of those things. The stereotype irritated him, and he never would have thought Naruto had enough contact with normal society to already grasp its stereotypes.

"Hey, Sasuke-teme, I want your opinion on something!"

But when he heard Naruto approach, and turned to respond, he could only stare on with a dropped jaw.

The blonde was standing there, shamelessly twirling back and forth in a plaid blue skirt. Sasuke gaped for a full six seconds before he found his voice again.

"Usuratonkachi … what the hell are you …?"

"I figured you'd be the go-to guy for skirts. You usually pick good-looking stuff." Naruto presented his friend with his backside. "What do you think? How does my ass look?"

The sound of giggles from girls shopping reached Sasuke's ears, and he turned to fight them off with a glare, face flushed. He looked back at Naruto, who wasn't comprehending the exasperated expression on the raven's face. "You definitely look like an ass."

Naruto frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Another man pushed past on his way out of the changing rooms, giving the two boys an ugly look. Sasuke flushed even further and grabbed Naruto by the arm, dragging him roughly back into the changing rooms and threw him back into the stall where the blonde's pants were hanging up. He slammed the door and leaned on it to prevent Naruto's escape.

Sure enough, that annoyance was beating on the door within a few moments. "Sasuke-teme, open up!"

"Not until you get your pants back on!" Sasuke growled, feeling an angry fire still raging over his cheeks.

"Why? What's wrong with the skirt?" Naruto shouted indignantly.

"Shut up, stupid!" Sasuke snarled. "You've already embarrassed me enough!"

A harsh silence fell over the dressing room, Sasuke's loud breathing the only sound between them.

"… Sasuke?"

Naruto's voice was barely a whisper behind the door, whipped and injured. Sasuke had never heard this tone in Naruto's voice before, and it startled him.

He felt the door handle jiggle behind him again, and he leaned back firmly against it in defense.

"Sasuke, open up." Naruto was pleading now.

"No. I already told you, first you have to—"

"There's something wrong. Open _up_."

Sasuke found himself fighting the door desperately, pressing his shoulder and hands against it until his bones began to complain. "There's nothing _wrong_ except you being a huge embarrassment!"

"_Why_? What's wrong with the skirt?"

"Didn't you _see_ the way those people were looking at you? Everyone was laughing at you like a circus freak! Guys don't wear skirts, you moron! Of course you'd look embarrassing!"

"But _you_ wear them!"

"_I hate it_!" Sasuke shouted at the door furiously, panting even more with frustration. "Don't you?! You can't tell me you didn't hate being laughed and stared at, or didn't you notice?"

The door stopped resisting Sasuke's attempts to keep it closed. "Of course I noticed," Naruto said, a little less loudly. "I'm not stupid. I could tell they were laughing at me. But Sasuke, I don't _care_. If I _cared_ I wouldn't hang out with you."

"You should _start_ caring."

"Why? I thought you didn't care either! I mean, you wear a skirt but you look like a man, talk like a man, and you don't try to be something you're not."

"That doesn't stop people from thinking I'm stupid."

"I think it's great!" Naruto said desperately. "I mean … it's cool. How you look so confident, even when everyone else is judging you. I thought maybe if I got a skirt, I'd … you know … maybe learn how to be like that too."

For a moment, Sasuke said nothing. He didn't feel like he was particularly confident. "Naruto, confidence doesn't come from clothing. You have to like who you are to be confident."

"But I really like this skirt, and I think I'd like myself a lot more if I bought it." Naruto's tone told Sasuke he was pouting.

Sasuke sighed. "Look, Naruto, if you're really going to insist on buying new clothes, you have to pick something that suits you. Your legs are too thick for you to wear something that comes up above the knees."

"Then help me pick out something," Naruto said. "It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it's teme-approved."

Though Sasuke really didn't enjoy clothes-shopping, especially not for this dumbass blonde, the thought that his opinion came first turned over and over in the back of his mind.

"Alright, wait here," Sasuke conceded. "But if you come out of that dressing room I swear I'll—"

"Whatever, teme, just go!" Naruto interrupted excitedly.

With a sigh, Sasuke returned to the store, ignoring the stares of others and rifling through the racks of pants. Eventually he found a pair of black rocker pants with straps and silver buckles on the legs, and brought it back to Naruto. Naruto traded the skirt for it, and began changing while Sasuke returned the article to its proper place. By the time he hung it back up, Naruto was calling him over again from the entryway to the dressing room.

When Naruto gave him the full view again, spinning in a slow circle, Sasuke couldn't help but notice the fabric was very intimate with the blonde's legs and waistline.

"How does it fit?" Sasuke asked.

"Like a second skin," Naruto said. Then he presented his friend with his backside once more. "And my ass?"

"Much better."

Naruto gave him a wide, satisfied smile.

**(XXX)**

When Naruto arrived home with his new pants and a new muscle-shirt and jacket Sasuke had helped him pick out to complete his ensemble, he found Iruka in the living room, fidgeting with his cell phone.

"Hey there, Iruka-sensei," Naruto said cheerily. "Sorry I was out so late. Sasuke and I got into it a little."

"You got into a fight?" Iruka said sharply. Ever since Naruto and Sasuke beat each other up, Iruka had been very wary whenever Naruto mentioned getting into an argument.

"No fists," Naruto laughed, then put up his arms as if preparing for a round of fisticuffs. "He better hope he never sees these babies in action ever again."

This made Iruka smirk a little, bringing a relieved smile to Naruto's face. "You look kind of antsy. What's going on?"

The tension came back in Iruka's expression. "Just trying to get in touch with Kakashi."

"You can't contact him?"

"No, it's not that. There's just something he asked me to do today, and I need to ask him a few questions. And that reminds me—can you study by yourself today?"

"Sure," Naruto said. "I understand that he needs your help. He's kind of helpless without you. It's a wonder he can get across the street on his own without getting hit by a car."

The older man smiled again, then approached Naruto and wrapped him in a warm, tight embrace.

"What's this for?" Naruto said, caught off-guard.

"Nothing," Iruka hummed. "I just love you."

The shock of Iruka's words froze Naruto in place for a few moments, but when he regained the ability to move, he returned the hug, squeezing Iruka and pressing his face to the taller man's shoulders to try and suppress his tears.

"I love you too, Iruka-sensei."

When they parted, Iruka patted his shoulder with the brightest, most calming and loving smile Naruto had ever seen. "Go upstairs now, and get started on your studies. Kakashi will be home in an hour—he's going to need to have the living room to himself, so try to stay upstairs and not disturb him."

Usually Kakashi was a very laidback worker, who let Naruto come and go through his work space, where they would talk and laugh about Kakashi's current tasks. "Is he working on something important?"

Iruka nodded solemnly. "He shouldn't be working for long though, so I'll come and get you when he's done."

"Alright. I'll have to go to work soon, so if he's not done by then, I'll sneak out the window."

Iruka looked horrified. "You'll break your legs!"

"Trust me, Iruka-sensei, I'll be fine. I climbed out of third-story windows in my food-snatching days."

Naruto quickly left Iruka to worry, scuttling up the stairs before the subject could be argued any further, and opened up his books to study. He got halfway through his World History studies for the day before he realized he left some of his reference books downstairs. He hadn't been studying for long, so he figured it'd be fine to run downstairs and grab his books.

When he descended the stairs, he saw a foreign person alone in the living room, sitting on the couch. He was a young man with sandstone-colored skin, wild, blood-red hair and dark-rimmed eyes. He noticed Naruto the minute he started down the steps, teal eyes trailing him icily to the bottom of the stairwell.

"Hey," Naruto greeted, not really sure what to say. He got no response, so he tried again. "You here for Kakashi-sensei?"

The boy didn't nod, but a light of recognition in his eyes was all Naruto needed. A smile broke out over his whiskered face and he walked over, holding out his hand to be shaken. "I'm Uzumaki Naruto." When the boy looked at his hand uncomprehendingly, he added, "You've probably met Iruka-sensei by now too, right? I'm his son."

The boy didn't shake his hand, but after a long pause eyed him and said, "I thought his last name was Umino."

"It is. He adopted me."

This stranger felt very unapproachable, the look in his eyes hungry and foreboding, like he was sizing Naruto up. But at least he was talking, so he couldn't be completely unapproachable.

Seeing that this boy wasn't going to bother with a handshake, Naruto made himself at home on the coffee table across from his guest. "What's your name?"

Another long pause. "Gaara," the boy said eventually.

"Nice to meet you, Gaara." His gaze flickered up to Gaara's forehead and found a lack of hair where there should've been eyebrows. He put his fingers to his own eyebrows, smoothing them down, and asked, "Were you born without these, or was it a lifestyle choice?"

Naruto got a blank look in return that solidified his impression that Gaara was not a talkative person.

"Uh …" he said, searching for something else to say, since Gaara wasn't answering him. "You must be pretty bored, sitting around waiting for Kakashi-sensei. Do you like manga? Video games? 'Cause I can hook you up."

Gaara's eyes widened at those last few words, an expression full of panic and hostility overtaking those features that seemed carved in marble. Naruto was about to ask what was wrong when Kakashi and Iruka came walking in the front door.

"Oh, Naruto. I see you've met Gaara." Kakashi said, looking back and forth between the two boys, as if gauging the mood. If his tone was any indication, he didn't like what he saw.

"Yeah, I just came down to get my books and I saw him down here all by himself. I figured he must be bored, so I introduced myself." Naruto took the time to gather his books, which were also on the coffee table, trying to indicate he would soon leave them alone. "You starting work with him, Kakashi-sensei?"

"Yes. Gaara will be having one-on-one sessions with me from now on."

Naruto was standing up when he heard that, and he froze in mid-ascent. "Huh? By himself? Why not with the group?"

He looked over Kakashi's shoulder and saw Iruka, whose stiff body language was screaming for Naruto to shut his mouth.

"His condition is very severe," Kakashi explained. "He needs more individual focus."

Naruto's nose crinkled in disbelief. "To hell with that. Just let him hang out." He turned to Gaara, who still looked on edge. "Talking about feelings is just unnecessarily difficult, right? How about you, me, Kakashi-sensei and Iruka-sensei have some tea, sit around, and shoot the shit?"

He felt Kakashi's hand firmly on his shoulder, and when he looked into those mismatched eyes, he saw there was no room for negotiation. "He can't play right now. Go up to your room and study."

"… Well," Naruto said to Gaara, after having a short staring match with his housemate, "if he gives you a break, I'll bring down some manga." He gave another smile to the nervous visitor and then jogged back upstairs, his mind a whirling dervish of irritation. Even after he went back to studying, he could hardly concentrate. He didn't understand why Kakashi insisted Gaara was different from the other patients. Even if his condition was serious, Naruto had a pretty bad incident with the Kyuubi when he first started living with Iruka. But ever since hanging out with his new friends and taking his meds, he hardly ever heard from that fox anymore.

He kind of wanted to argue with Kakashi a little more, so after about an hour of failed attempts to study, he snuck downstairs again, only to find no one in the living room. He crept to the kitchen to see if they'd moved there, but he only saw Iruka washing some dishes. His foster-father caught sight of him and asked, "You looking for Gaara?"

"Maybe," Naruto said sheepishly.

Iruka sighed. "You're going to get into trouble with Kakashi if you don't leave that boy alone."

Ignoring his warning, Naruto asked, "Where are they?"

"They've moved their session to a different venue." He motioned for Naruto to step closer and handed him some dishes to be dried.

"But didn't Kakashi-sensei choose Iruka-sensei's house as office for a reason? I know I came on a little strong, but if it drove them away …"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's just that Gaara's case is very special. He doesn't interact well with others."

"Maybe," Naruto said, frowning, "but can you imagine how lonely that would be? Being a 'special case' set apart from all the other freak shows."

"Naruto, I know you only meant well by wishing for Gaara to be in your group sessions. And maybe someday he will be. But he has to be handled gently …"

Naruto's scowl deepened. "He's not some piece of pottery."

A faint smile appeared on Iruka's face, out of Naruto's line of sight. "Have some faith in Kakashi. Everything will be fine."

Even though Iruka's words were comforting and Naruto trusted both him and Kakashi, he still couldn't get rid of the uneasiness curling and coiling in his stomach like a snake lying in wait.

**(XXX)**

- $100 is roughly 9,330 yen.

NOTES: I am Jesse. I live in Saitama. I've already made this joke before. Perhaps I am also but a component of the Rejecting Classroom …?

This took forever to write, and ended up hella long, with two extra scenes than what I intended. So I've broken up this piece into two chapters—rejoice! I'm trying to be more punctual about updating, but this story is hard to write. I have to fill up notecards nowadays with info and sort out in my head what I want to do. Then comes actually writing it and revising it. Sorry about the long wait—thanks for all your support despite my sluggishness. I love each and every one of you.

Please give me feedback! I want to hear words from those pretty little fingers. Favorite if you like the story.

**ALSO, LET ME BUMP MY BUDDIES!**

My dear friends OlivesOranges and DooplissShinigami on deviantart are fellow manga enthusiasts and draw their own series and fanart.

**OlivesOranges** has written and published her first novel in her Twisted Fates series. It's only about 15 bucks, so please support her! She's an amazing author, friend, and artist! She is also drawing a Twisted Fates comic called Rose for Shurinai, as well as creating a Twisted Fates RPG. The links are below.

TwistedFates: For Better or Worse (Novel):  . 

Rose for Shurinai:  /

Phantom Plague (RPG): 

DeviantArt: 

And as for **Doopliss**, she's not only a great artist, but an incredible cosplayer. Please check out her DeviantArt here for top-notch costumes: 


	15. Friends

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Naruto series/franchise. All the rights belong to Masashi Kishimoto and his partners. I am making absolutely NO PROFIT on this. Please consider this writing a fan-made project, written ONLY for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release of Naruto.**

INTRODUCTION: So, like I noted in the last chapter, this was originally part of the previous chapter, but it was so long, I decided to break it into two pieces. I've worked really hard to finish it, and tried to keep events clicking along. So warning: Lots of shit happens in this chapter. Really fast. I might not have edited it very well either, since it's 6 A.M. and I've been working all night to finish. Please bear with me as I try to get on a better schedule for this story. I'm shooting for an update every other week, but it depends on what my brain does. Anyone who's kept up with this story knows I'm not the best at doing what I say I'm going to do, when I want to do it.

But for now, please enjoy this chapter. I've managed to squeeze a lot in here, and I hope it will tickle your fancy.

**(XXX)**

The lush green grounds of Konoha High had never been bathed in so many lights as they were at that year's festival. The stalls snaked in a winding labyrinth around the cemented areas of the school, and beyond the booths, picnic blankets, lawn chairs, and paper lanterns decorated the wide field in the back. Students and teachers alike smiled, waiting for the evening to come, when the assembled spectators would be treated to a musical performance and stage plays until night fell. At that time they would light their lanterns and parade them all the way down to the river.

Sasuke could hardly get Naruto to sit still long enough to wait for Kiba and Shikamaru to arrive. They'd all promised to meet up near the information booth and from there explore the festival as a group, and finally welcome the spring as friends. But upon arrival, Naruto was so excited, decked out in his new rocker pants and jacket, that if Sasuke didn't keep a grip on his arm at all times, he'd run off and get lost in the crowd.

Eventually, Shikamaru showed up, but to the other boys' surprise, Kiba was nowhere to be found. When they asked where he was, Shikamaru shrugged, saying, "I'm not his keeper. I don't know where he is."

So, figuring they had a while to wait, Sasuke went ahead and bought four paper lanterns—blue, orange, green, and red—and handed the orange one to Naruto, the green and red one to Shikamaru, and kept the blue one to himself. "There. I bought one for all four of us."

"What's with the lanterns?" Naruto asked.

"It's part of festival tradition," Sasuke said. "The festival goes all day and into the evening, then at night, we light the lanterns and walk down through the Forest of Death and to the river beyond."

Tanned face twisting up into a grimace, Naruto said, "I've been through that forest a few times. I'm not sure why we're going there willingly."

"We'll be following a well-worn trail," Sasuke said, "though there will still be some challenging hiking involved. That whole place is overgrown."

"I ask again—why go through the trouble?"

"Konoha was named for being 'the city hidden among the leaves,' so forests are important to our heritage," Shikamaru explained. "But more than that, the Forest of Death symbolizes the struggles the village faced when it was first industrialized, the terrible relationships with its neighbors, and its own civil disputes. The meaning of hiking through that forest is overcoming a difficult challenge and emerging where progress flows freely."

"When you walk through the Forest of Death, every time you trip, you're supposed to pick a leaf off a tree. Then when you get to the river, you light the leaves from the candle in your lantern, drop them in the current and send them away," Sasuke continued. "It's supposed to be a prediction of how many times you'll stumble in the coming year, and as a result, how many times you'll be rewarded when you conquer them. The fire represents the will of the people, burning the leaves of strife until the waters of peace wash over it and lay all struggle to rest."

"I think you quoted your history textbook almost word for word," Shikamaru said. He earned a small, genuine smile.

"I'm not really much for the romantics of these ceremonies, but since I'm part of the Student Council and festival committee, I'm not allowed to sit out this year."

"Hm," Naruto said, contemplating the brightly-colored lantern in his hand. "Hiking sounds really difficult, especially with a lantern in one hand."

"Well, whether or not you go through with the event doesn't matter much. Though, I've heard that it's really bad luck to start the trip and then turn back," Shikamaru said. He yawned and stretched. "I probably won't stay long enough to participate. I had a midday shift and I'm wiped. Hardly made it here to meet you guys."

"If I already bought your lantern, you're damn well going to participate," Sasuke said, glaring at the lazy boy who was shamelessly shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't see the issue.

"Either way, we need to make the most of our time!" Naruto said excitedly. Though he kept saying the annual ritual didn't seem to make much sense, it made the fires of celebration burn brighter in his eyes.

"We can't do anything if Kiba's not here," Shikamaru said.

"We could ditch him," Sasuke suggested.

Naruto punched him playfully on the arm. "Don't be so cold, Sasuke-teme. Maybe he's lost or something."

Sasuke snorted. "We're right near the entrance. He'd have to have a pretty bad sense of direction."

"I guess so. Nee, Shika, maybe you should call him and see what's going on. He's already half an hour late," Naruto said, then grinned. "We'd expect that from you, but Kiba's a pretty stand-up guy."

"I'll see if I can get a hold of him," Shikamaru agreed, producing his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and pressing Kiba's number on speed-dial. Everyone waited for Kiba to pick up. Three rings later, no one was answering.

"Try him again," Naruto ushered.

"He better not have stood us up," Sasuke bristled.

Shikamaru dialed the number again, brows furrowed. As the phone rang, Naruto's ears perked up.

"Hey guys, do you hear that?" he asked. He paused, straining to hear. "I swear I'm hearing Kiba's ringtone right now."

The other two boys listened through the thick noise of the growing crowd, trying to pick out the sound. "I can't hear a damn thing," Sasuke said. "You must be hallucinating."

"No, I swear. It's that fucking weird song. 'Dog Days**(1)**,' right?" His head swiveled back and forth until he decided on a direction. "Come on," he said, motioning for his friends to follow as he pushed past other bystanders.

They traced his path with great difficulty as he dodged and weaved through other students chatting happily amongst themselves, but sure enough, when they finally broke free of the tide of guests, they found Kiba up ahead, making small talk with a couple unknown boys.

"Told you!" Naruto sneered at Sasuke.

As Naruto and Sasuke began arguing again, Shikamaru pocketed his phone with a sigh. "Cut it out, you two." He walked up to Kiba, giving him a smack on the back to break him out of his conversation. "Oi."

Kiba turned to face him, looking irritated. "What?"

"So this is where you were. We were starting to get worried you'd gone missing." Shikamaru pointed to the other boys Kiba was standing with. "They coming too? I hope they can pay for their own lanterns, or else Princess Sasuke's gonna have his pantyhose in a twist."

Kiba said nothing, only opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, and gave Shikamaru a once-over with a weird look. The stooped boy raised his eyebrow in return. "… Something wrong?"

"Kibaaa!" Naruto called. "Let's get going!" He only received another weird look from their wolfish friend.

One of the strange boys peered at Shikamaru then asked Kiba confusedly, "You know this guy?"

"No way," he barked in response, then turned to Shikamaru again. "Never seen him before in my life."

Those words surprised Shikamaru, but the blood didn't drain from his face, and his throat didn't tighten with indignation. Even if he didn't well know what was going on, he didn't have time to react with a proper level of shock.

He didn't have time, because he heard footsteps behind him, and those footsteps scared him more than Kiba's claim. He turned and saw Naruto had dropped his lantern and was walking briskly forward, eyes pinned on Kiba.

"Naruto," Shikamaru warned, taking a step out towards him.

The blonde didn't listen. His face was tightly set to cage a fury growing with every inch he came closer to Kiba. There was a red tint to his blue irises that Shikamaru had never seen before. They were hungry, angry, and betrayed. Kiba and his acquaintances could sense the danger, and Sasuke was now bringing up the rear in alarm.

Shikamaru abandoned the lanterns in his hands and reached his arm across to block Naruto from moving forward. He barely got his arm in front of Naruto's ribs before he was flung to the ground.

"You motherfucker!" Naruto screamed, and punched Kiba square in the jaw, felling him in one strike. He climbed on top of the fallen boy and punched him once, and twice more, unable to express his feelings with anything but his fists.

When Shikamaru got to his feet again, his ears were ringing with Kiba's cries of fear and pain. He grabbed Naruto, wrenching him off and dragging him kicking and screaming across the ground, an arm around his captive's neck. In Naruto's struggle to get free, he unabashedly sank his teeth into Shikamaru's arm, hoping to be released. He bit down so hard that blood leaked out from the skin and people screamed at the sight, but the muscles in Shikamaru's arm barely even twitched. In fact, Shikamaru endured a barrage of attacks from Naruto's teeth, fingernails, and wild thrashing without so much as a whimper—if anything, restraining him tighter all the same. Sasuke attempted to help, but Shikamaru told him with a look that he should back down.

"Let me go!" he hissed out finally. "I'm going to kick his ass."

"I understand that you're angry, and that it's for my sake. And I can understand if you need to take it out on someone. But," Shikamaru growled, "you better get that shit out of your system with me, for your sake."

The teachers and security guards came to break them up, and after letting Kiba visit the nurse's room to check his wound, they led all three boys to the office. They asked Kiba to talk to the principal first, leaving Naruto and Shikamaru to wait outside with a security guard to keep them from running away. The two boys sat quietly for a while, frustrated. Sasuke found them and tried to ask about the situation, but the guard chased him off.

Naruto spoke up after a few minutes, ignoring the security guard. "I'm not gonna apologize, you know."

"You're damn well going to," Shikamaru said darkly.

"Why should I? When you're a dick, you deserve to get punched." This caught the security guard's attention, and he and Naruto eyed each other challengingly. "I don't get why you're not angry."

"If it helps, I'm angry at you."

"I'm not the one who treated you like shit."

Shikamaru rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking as exhausted as if he were talking to a small child. "Naruto, have you forgotten what kind of a person Kiba is?"

"He's normally a great guy, that's why I don't—"

"The key-word's 'normal,'" Shikamaru interrupted. "He's not normal. None of us are. Do you remember his journal?"

Naruto fell silent as he remembered. Every once in a while, Kiba would show his friends a couple entries from his journal, where Kakashi assigned some writing that would help Kiba continue to face himself. He'd ask Kiba to write an opinion piece in his journal on the same topic two days in a row, and every time he tried, he found one day his opinion was described as the polar opposite of the other. There was even a difference in his handwriting, as if another hand had written it.

"He's not normal," Shikamaru repeated. "He's not the same person every day."

"But it's weird. Even when he acts strange some days, he always knows you. He always remembers you and acts the same way as usual when you two are around each other. Why would he just forget you all of a sudden?" He gave Shikamaru a worried look. "Did you have a fight?"

Shikamaru shook his head. "No … but the last few times we hung out, I've exposed him to a lot of things I probably shouldn't have. He's afraid of me right now, and so his defense mechanisms are kicking in."

"Why would he be afraid of you?"

Shikamaru leaned back against the wall and sighed. "Do you believe in curses, Naruto? Not just curses that plague the mind—not metaphorical curses, but hexes and bad luck." He smirked tiredly at the obvious rejection of these theories in Naruto's countenance. "I've had a lot of bad stuff happen to me. And I've done a lot of bad stuff. Don't tell anyone, but a year or so ago, I got caught up in a gang war and killed a boy out of self-defense. They put me in juvie for thirty days, and in that time, I hurt another person on accident."

Naruto's face was impassive, his feelings impossible to determine as he listened. "On accident? What happened?"

"The cells in juvie were divided by sex and so were the recess periods, but every day at dinner time, they let the boys and girls eat together under supervision. A lot of kids had siblings in juvie too, and so for one meal, they let the boys and girls talk to each other. It was the institution's way of being merciful. And this one girl, Tayuya, took every opportunity during this period to bother me. She cussed at me, tried to stab me with her silverware, and said anything she liked to make me mad. And one day … well, the guards would herd us into our respective lines after mealtime, and the lines would go one at a time, boys first. When we were going up the stairs, Tayuya broke free from her line, ran past the guard, and shoved me against the railing. And I …" Shikamaru licked his lips, still as the dead, watching a far-off dream. "I got angry and pushed her back, and she lost her footing on the stairs …" He rubbed his eyes. "The rest is history."

As Shikamaru finished talking, Naruto's mind became a blur of confusion. For the first time he realized he hardly knew the person in front of him, and he didn't know how to feel.

"I don't get it," he said quietly. "Something like that … You wouldn't say a word about this at the group sessions. You're finally telling me this now, after keeping it a secret from everyone so long?"

"I never said anything because I was afraid I'd lose Kiba as a friend. I've already told him, and that's why he's afraid of me. I've got nothing to hide anymore. I didn't feel like anyone else mattered …" Shikamaru mustered a weak smile. "To be honest, I never really considered you my friend until now."

"What? Why?" Naruto asked. He looked heartbroken. "You didn't have fun hanging out?"

"I might've had fun, but that was only because we were all forced to have fun together. Even if we were having a good time, it only lasted as long as the therapy sessions. I didn't feel like I could call you a 'friend' when you were required to spend time with me. But … I didn't expect you to stick up for me." Shikamaru looked down at his feet forlornly. "I'm sorry you had to."

They both kept their mouths shut tightly after that. Neither knew what to say, or what to do. Neither knew where they stood with the other. But when Naruto put his arm around Shikamaru's shoulder, they at least knew that for now, they could call each other 'friends.' And as Kiba walked out of the principal's office, avoiding eye contact, Shikamaru kept in mind the words his friend had said the day before—the words that kept him from feelings of betrayal in the first place.

**(XXX)**

Shikamaru awoke to a sharp jab in the ribs. He didn't open his eyes, but instead clung to the sleepy feeling of the warm sun on his face as long as he could, before he was elbowed again.

"Come on, Shika, wake up," Kiba said. "We didn't come here so you could sleep."

Slowly Shikamaru's eyes slid open. "The clouds are as beautiful as ever," he mumbled.

"You really do like cloud-gazing, huh?" Kiba chuckled.

"It's soothing. The sky's so big, you can get lost in it." The lazy boy's eyes closed again, but this time Kiba had mercy on his side. "You should do it more often. It'll help you relax."

Kiba fell to silence. Normally Shikamaru would take the opportunity to slip back into his slumber, but something in the atmosphere was alerting his instincts, telling him to stay awake.

"You know," Kiba finally said, "with all the excitement in the past few days, you never told me why you're in therapy."

"… I was going to do that, wasn't I?" Shikamaru turned to look at his friend and found those slit pupils boring into him. "After all the other scary things that have happened, you still want to know?"

Kiba frowned. "If I didn't, would I ask?"

"If I tell you, you might not want to be my friend anymore."

Shikamaru felt a pain in his heart at the thought. The only other friend he'd told about his criminal record was Chouji, and they were drifting apart. Shikamaru and Kiba were spending so much time together now that they could easily be best friends, and there was something about Kiba that filled the loneliness inside of Shikamaru the way that Chouji never could. He didn't want to lose his friend just as they were becoming close.

"Well …" Kiba looked up into the sky. "If it's anything like what happened with that thing in your apartment … I can't promise I won't freak out at first. It's like there are other people inside of me, people that don't understand you the way I do. They don't understand that the past is the past, and they're afraid."

"…What about you?" Shikamaru asked quietly.

Kiba looked back at him, resolute. "The only thing I'm afraid of is myself."

Until that day, Shikamaru had never seen openness on a person's face. Not on his mother's, not on his father's, nor his friends. He always felt like there was something he had to hold back, because he felt like only he could understand himself. But looking at Kiba now, he realized they were the same. The hardships they'd faced wiped them like a clean slate, until every future experience was new and uncertain. He could write his story in Kiba, and keep it safe—he could lock away that uncertainty.

"Where do I start?" Shikamaru asked himself aloud.

"From the beginning, of course," Kiba answered.

So Shikamaru did.

**(XXX)**

Naruto had no idea what Kiba and Shikamaru said in the principal's office, but it nearly got him off scot-free. He certainly didn't make an outstanding impression when he talked to the principal. He'd organized in his head what he wanted to say beforehand, but when he went in he saw the principal was a woman—a tall woman with a deep scowl on her face, long blonde hair, and an outfit on reminiscent of the uniforms worn by employees at the nearby casino. She looked like a woman who'd stabbed a man and would gladly do it again and could raise her voice to a decibel that shook the heavens. He spent the entire meeting eyeing the pencils on her desk, hoping she wouldn't pick one up and impale him with it. Luckily, though, thanks to whatever Kiba and Shikamaru said, his basic punishment was helping clean up the festival and doing some other services for the school. The principal did say that if Kiba's family wanted to press charges, they could, but otherwise he would be let off with a warning, and was not allowed back on school campus for six months.

The worst part of the ordeal was explaining what happened to Iruka when he got home. He had a way of making Naruto regret every impassioned decision he ever made. He sat his foster-father down in the kitchen, made him ramen as a peace offering then told him about his fight with Kiba. The man's face was chiseled in stone the whole time Naruto explained his actions.

"Well," Iruka said, "You'll get the punishment you deserve. You'll have to discipline yourself from here on out."

To Naruto's surprise, this was all his foster-father said. "Aren't you going to punish me, Iruka-sensei?"

"I'm kind of torn," Iruka said with a conflicted smile. He looked half-proud, half-upset. "You're too abrasive, but it's that part of you that I love."

"Man," Naruto groaned, "Most of all, I just wish I could've hiked up to the river and sent my leaves down the stream."

"Oh, that old tradition?" Iruka's eyes lit up. "I'm surprised they still do that. They did that when I was in high school."

"Yeah. At first I thought it was kind of stupid, but then after Sasuke explained it to me—" Naruto looked up to see Iruka leaving the room. "Iruka-sensei, where are you going?"

The older man disappeared upstairs for a minute, then came back into the kitchen carrying something with him. "Naruto, not a lot of kids know about this … but not twelve years ago, Konoha High used to be a military academy. The significance of the forest and the leaves were the same, but they were used to give hope in times of war. Young boys who were going straight into the military would run training courses through the Forest of Death at night, led by lights strapped to their heads, and would pick a leaf off the trees for every time they stumbled. Whole branches would be bare over their path, and it signified every life lost in war. Then they'd set the leaves free in the river, to show that when the war ended, all those who were dead would find peace, and the hope that someday their time as soldiers would come to an end."

He showed Naruto what he was carrying. A headband made of thick dark blue cloth with a metal band attached to the front, a symbol engraved into the shining surface. "The symbol on this headband is a leaf. Hold your bangs back, Naruto." The blonde did as he was told, and Iruka fastened it around the young boy's forehead. "I was once a soldier too. And this headband is the one I wore in all of my battles."

Naruto's eyes widened. "Iruka-sensei was …?"

Iruka nodded. "I hated the war. It caused me great pain, and gave me this scar." He ran two fingers over the scar bridging his nose. "But I took care of this headband all these years, because I still believe the leaf is the sign of hope. Not only for this city, but for the world, and all its people. I became a soldier because I wanted to protect that hope." He put his hands on Naruto's shoulders. "And now, I want you to protect that hope as well." He ruffled his son's hair. "I'm proud that you stood up for your friend, even when it meant confronting another. Keep fighting for the people you care about. But please fight with your words, not your fists."

**(XXX)**

The festival was not a happy time for Neji. Something was bugging him about the literature club and their cohort, Yakushi Kabuto, the science teacher. He felt like he'd heard that name somewhere—somewhere a regular teacher's name didn't belong.

He spent the whole festival lurking beside the literature club's booth, watching them pass out boring old novels and engage in long-winded conversations about symbolism. He took a book for himself, and found nothing was off—just a pile of useless historical poems. He hadn't once seen Yakushi-sensei pass by, and he took that as a good sign. But he still couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.

After a good three hours of feeling like something was wrong, Neji decided he needed a different approach. The people running the booth were too aware of his presence, eyes darting to take a look at him now and again. He wondered what he should do.

Then people started screaming, and a commotion began near the entrance. Somebody shouted out that a fight was going on. Everybody began either pushing away from the fight or running towards it. Neji saw his chance. One of the customers at the literature booth, a man who'd just made his purchase, made a beeline for the far end of the festival when he caught wind of the fight. Neji rushed towards him shoulder-first, slamming straight into him, knocking him down and the book out of his hands. The book fell open on the ground and Neji went wide-eyed at what he saw. It was hollowed out, and had a bag full of something inside it. He quickly picked up the book and, confirming his suspicions, saw the contents of the bag consisted of cocaine. Slamming the book shut, he looked at the man he ran into who was now on his feet. Their eyes met for a moment, and then the man ran away in fear.

Neji realized that the last place he wanted to be with a bag of coke was near a fight. He fled in the direction the other man went, holding the book close to his stomach to try and keep it concealed among the flaps of his shirt. He kept running until he was off campus and sprinting down the street.

He needed to tell Zetsu about this.

**(XXX)**

– This reference is for my own selfish benefit. I really like Florence and the Machine, and one of their songs is "Dog Days Are Over." So when I was trying to think of a ringtone for Kiba that would involve dogs (I didn't want to use "Who Let The Dogs Out"), that was the only one I could bring to mind. Please forgive my weird tastes in music. (And please check out Florence and the Machine if you get the chance!)

NOTES: Not much to say that hasn't already been said, other than, "oh lawd, my babies." I love them, but I do terrible things to them, and I still need to fine-tune and polish their personalities and my own writing. I also need to work on getting updates quicker, especially since I'm still trying to make room in my brain for Bleach and One Piece fanfics. Thank you for all your patience and support up until this point. Please continue to be kind to me.

Give me feedback! I love to hear from you. Favorite and review if you like.

**ALSO, LET ME BUMP MY BUDDIES!**

My dear friends OlivesOranges and DooplissShinigami on deviantart are fellow manga enthusiasts and draw their own series and fanart.

**OlivesOranges** has written and published her first novel in her Twisted Fates series. It's only about 15 bucks, so please support her! She's an amazing author, friend, and artist! She is also drawing a Twisted Fates comic called Rose for Shurinai, as well as creating a Twisted Fates RPG. The links are below.

TwistedFates: For Better or Worse (Novel): .

Rose for Shurinai: /

Phantom Plague (RPG):

DeviantArt:

And as for **Doopliss**, she's not only a great artist, but an incredible cosplayer. Please check out her DeviantArt here for top-notch costumes:


	16. The Defectives

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of Naruto. All character, manga, anime, and series ownership go to Masashi Kishimoto and whoever he shares his rights with. THIS WRITING PROJECT IS DONE ONLY FOR FUN AND WRITING CRITIQUE. Though I'd think you'd know that by now, if you've been reading this long. Please support the official release.**

INTRODUCTION: Sorry for the late update as usual, everybody! I hope to give you multiple updates in the next day or so to make up for it. Thanks again for sticking with me despite my sloth-like tendencies! On the note of this chapter, there's some shit that's gonna have to go down, so hold onto your hats and prepare yourselves for … I dunno, really, it's just like the stuff I usually write. Nothing too different.

On a side note, I just recently went out and purchased a bunch of One Piece volumes … but I also purchased the volume of Naruto that covers the Lee v. Gaara fight in the Chuunin Exams! I love that fight so much. It was probably the fight that got me into Naruto in the first place, and clips from that fight made up my first AMV when I was making videos on Youtube. I love being able to read it in black and white again! Kishimoto drew it really dynamically. If you're interested in finding it for yourself, the fight's in Volume 10. It has a super-cute cover of Lee and Gai, and then Naruto imitating the turtle Gai shows up with when he appears the first time. (For those of you interested in what One Piece stuff I bought, I got Volume 57 [Marineford], Volume 60 [Luffy's childhood], Volume 64 [Fishman Island], and a three-volume set of 16, 17, and 18 [Drum Island and Baroque Works, when Ace first appears].)

Enough of that. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and look forward to the next update!

**(XXX)**

The mall was buzzing as usual, but in a strange turn of events, Sasuke found his table was silent, despite a chair being occupied by a normally loud-mouthed blonde. A plate of disgusting-looking mall-grade sushi sat in front of Naruto, untouched. As he tapped some keys on his phone, Sasuke snuck a look at the whiskered face across from him. Naruto was staring off in a completely different direction, leaning his head on his hand with a scowl.

With a sigh, Sasuke continued his texting. Fucking student council members, constantly texting him random questions about where certain objects from the festival were supposed to be returned to. He couldn't hardly put his phone down a minute before his ringtone morosely informed him that he had shit he needed to take care of. How was he supposed to know where Neji got the glass lanterns and lights and other rented items? He only just started working again on the student council a short while before the festival. He had no idea what inner trade mechanisms Neji had going on.

But at least it gave him some time to formulate an approach to Naruto when he finally got finished. Earlier that day Kakashi-sensei had called Sasuke, asking him to get Naruto out of the house for a while, so the raven-haired boy assumed that Naruto was chomping at the bit to hang or talk or do something utterly ridiculous like when Naruto tried to go skirt-shopping. But oddly enough, the blonde had been wearing that same scornful expression ever since they met up. And now, he seemed to be intent on carving a niche in the far wall of the food court.

"Stop pouting so damn much," Sasuke said eventually.

"Geez, alright, _sorry_." Naruto huffed and proceeded to scowl even more deeply.

Sasuke finally put his phone on silent and slid it into his pocket. "What's wrong with you today? Normally you're bouncing all over the walls."

"Just leave me alone, okay?"

With a sigh, Sasuke rubbed the bridge of his nose angrily. Damn brat couldn't even appreciate his concern. "Sorry. Obviously something's wrong, so I just figured I should ask."

Sasuke looked back up into the full force of an icy-blue glare. "Like you actually give a shit."

Returning the glare with increasing irritation, Sasuke retorted, "I didn't come here today so you could be a smart mouth."

That shut Naruto up for a few moments while the two continued to stare at each other hotly. Just as Sasuke was about to renew the discussion, Naruto's eyes lost their ferocity and he directed an embarrassed gaze at the table.

"I … at the festival, I talked to Shikamaru," he began softly. "I was mad because of what Kiba did, and told him that he should be angrier at how he was treated. But he said Kiba did that because he was afraid of Shika, because Shika told him about the situation that got him into therapy. Shika said that he felt like Kiba was the only person that mattered. He said he'd never considered you or me his friends until I tried to stick up for him." He quickly gave Sasuke a glance tinged with shame. "He thought we didn't even care about him. That we were just set up on playdates at therapy sessions, forced to spend time with each other … Kiba was the only one who hung out with him outside the sessions. I never even thought to invite him out somewhere."

The dark-eyed boy across from him listened intently, wanting to interject that the reason for ignoring Shikamaru was probably because when Naruto wasn't working or studying, he was hanging out with Sasuke.

"Now their friendship might be ruined. And it got me thinking …" Naruto began. His heart was pried open with hurt, like a gash he suddenly realized he couldn't sew up. It showed on his face and in his clear blue eyes as he caught Sasuke's stare again. "You and me … we're not 'friends,' are we?"

Sasuke froze, unsure of what to say, and found words getting stuck in his throat.

"You've said it a lot of times before. Kakashi-sensei's making us spend time together. You don't want to be here with me. For all of the time we spent together … you didn't want any of it, right?"

All the words were rushing forward and Naruto couldn't stop them. He looked to Sasuke for some kind of reassurance, his unmasked emotions catching the other boy off-guard.

"Of course I didn't want any of it," Sasuke burst out, then checked himself when he saw he was agitating Naruto's wounds further. "But, I mean—Naruto, why are you saying this now?"

"I'm saying," Naruto spat, rising to his feet, "maybe two people who aren't friends shouldn't be wasting their time together." His face was pained, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"Are you saying you don't want to hang out anymore?" Sasuke asked incredulously.

He caught one last glimpse of those blue eyes, boiling with white-hot shame and anger. "Not when you never wanted to."

"Wait—usuratonkachi—!"

Sasuke jumped out of his seat, but Naruto was already storming off. Looking after Naruto's back as he disappeared into the crowd, Sasuke's pale skin was crawling. He wanted to follow, but what could he say? Everything Naruto had said was true.

Sasuke never wanted Naruto.

**(XXX)**

"Kiba! Your friend's here!"

His mother's raking shout could be heard all throughout the house. Kiba could hear it even through his headphones as he rocked out to One OK Rock, using his novelty golden chopsticks as drumsticks to hammer out a beat against the footboard of his bed.

"I swear, she's the only woman who can cut through these guitar riffs," he muttered to himself as he gingerly liberated his ears and cut the music off with a quick stroke on his phone. "Send 'em up, Ma!" he shouted.

Pretty soon he heard two pairs of footsteps ascending the stairs. He thudded out a rhythm to their steps on his leg as they neared his room. He wasn't surprised when his mother ripped the door open without knocking first.

"Your friend," she said gruffly. Then she turned to the visitor behind her and motioned curtly with her head. When the guest stepped inside Kiba's room, the wolfish boy could hardly believe his eyes.

Standing in front of him was the young Uchiha from his therapy group, in a skirt, knee-socks and all, gloriously unwelcome.

Kiba immediately jumped to his feet, nearly dropping his chopsticks. "Sasuke? What are you doing here?" He'd never really talked to Sasuke much—he was more privy to Shikamaru, and besides, Naruto was always hogging the kid's attention. Part of him wondered what Sasuke was doing at his house, but part of him already knew the answer.

"How many times have I told you not to fuck around with those chopsticks?" Kiba's mother interrupted shrilly, pointing at her son.

"Ma! They're just chopsticks!" Kiba said, and the minute the words came out of his mouth he realized he'd made a mistake.

"_Just_ chopsticks? Remind me who spent a pretty penny on those babies because _somebody_ kept begging for a souvenir from Osaka?!"

"_Ma!_" Kiba hissed. "Not now!" He gestured with his chin at Sasuke, begging with a look in his eyes that said 'You're embarrassing me in front of my friend.'

She growled at him lowly, but seemed to get the picture. She turned to the other boy and said in a rather stern tone, "Make yourself at home. And make sure this idiot doesn't break something."

As she left the room, her eyes went to Sasuke's pleated skirt, and she gave a half-glare at his back, lip curled. Whether he could feel her unpleasant look upon his back, Sasuke didn't say.

"Well," he said frostily. "Seems like you remember me this time."

"Uh," Kiba said intelligently, "There's not much place to sit. If you want to sit on the bed—"

"No, it's fine, I won't be here long. Just need to talk to you about something."

"This is about what happened at the festival," Kiba sighed, sitting back down on his bed.

"Oh, so you're not so clueless after all," Sasuke murmured bemusedly.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I did. I was totally out of it, and was off my meds to boot. I didn't mean anything I said or did, and I'll apologize to Shika the very next time I see him."

"You're damn right you're going to apologize," Sasuke said, towering over Kiba with his arms crossed.

When Kiba tried to stand up to feel less imposed upon, he was pushed right back down.

"I don't give a damn what Shikamaru thinks. He's a big boy—he got into this mess knowing full well what kind of person you are, so he can lay in the bed he's made. But you've caused an awful lot of trouble for me."

Kiba's heart withered and sank under Sasuke's fiery, coal-black eyes. "Did I get you in trouble with the council members…?"

With a huge sigh as if Kiba were hopeless, Sasuke perched himself on the end-table next to the bed, arms still barricading his chest tightly. "Kakashi-sensei's been making me hang out with you idiots as part of my therapy. My parents pay him, so I have to do what he says. He also really seems to like sticking me with Naruto, even though he's an annoying bastard. And ever since you had your little … _episode_ at the festival, that usuratonkachi has been catching on to me."

Kiba suddenly wished there were a hole he could crawl into. He felt a little disgusting, but also a little mad. "I said I was sorry, and I mean it. Besides, I can't control these _episodes_. You can't just get mad at me for something I can't control!" He started to tap out a nervous rhythm with his chopsticks.

Gritting his teeth, Sasuke yanked the sticks out of his hands and threw them against the wall.

"_You think that's an excuse?!_"

The sudden outburst frightened Kiba into complete stillness and silence.

"How long are you going to keep hiding behind these different faces, pretending like there's nothing you can do?" Sasuke shouted at him. "Do you even _know_ how heavily you rely on that dumbass Shikamaru? You lean and lean on him, always having the luxury to break down and cry and then lash out with the mask of some other personality as your disguise. And what about when _he_ breaks? What if the rest of us break? How long are you going to sit around and let your friends baby you when you go through the least bit of difficulty?"

Slamming his hands down on Kiba's knees, Sasuke leaned in to hiss his words directly into the boy's sweating, tanned face.

"I understand you follow a tough road, but I don't think you understand what kind of roads others follow parallel to you. You don't _want_ to understand. You wallow in fear and self-pity until your world collapses around you, and you wonder where it all went wrong. You act like there are other people inside of you, people who take over and have different memories and opinions, but in the end, _**they're all you.**_"

Kiba's eyes widened and he opened his mouth as his breath quickened sharply, trying to cut in. "I—"

"_They all come from you_. They're just parts of you that your mind picks and chooses when it's damn well convenient for you to go and hide in a little shell. They're all optional personalities that haven't been made permanent yet." Sasuke slapped his hands against Kiba's knees again, shouting, "So choose who you want to fucking be already!"

"Choose?" Kiba squeaked, his world spinning dizzily as he took in Sasuke's words.

"Who do you want to be, Kiba? Do you want to be the gay idiot who goes on despite all odds? Do you want to be the scaredy-cat who hides away and refuses to take risks? Do you want to be a normal kid, with normal friends, and a fun life? Who the _fuck_ are you?"

"_I don't know!"_ Kiba shouted over him. All talking ceased for a moment as Kiba's chest heaved and he drew in small, panicked gasps. "… I don't know. I feel different at different times. Can't they all be a part of me?"

"Maybe," Sasuke said, lowering his voice. "But if they can, they have to be united. No Kiba 1, Kiba 2, Kiba Monday or Kiba Wednesday. They have to be _you_. You have to find what you want to be and stick to it. Otherwise, you'll just end up hurting yourself and everyone around you, like what happened at the festival."

Kiba couldn't find any words to say. All he could do was nod in understanding, even though he still didn't quite understand what had been said to him.

"You should spend the next couple days thinking seriously on this," Sasuke advised sternly. "Even if you only decide on your personality a piece at a time, it's okay, as long as you start moving towards your goal and never turn back. You can change yourself, too, without changing your memories and everything that you are. Your interests _can_ shift. But …"

"… I know," Kiba said quietly, nodding again.

Even though he didn't want to face it, this was something he'd been thinking about for a while. Ever since the night when he encountered the creature in Shikamaru's apartment, all the fear he felt that made him crawl into his shell made him wonder who he was, why he went back to the apartment with Shikamaru, and if he really understood what it meant to be a friend. Did 'friends' stay with each other despite those scary occurrences? How far could friendship take him, and how far would he be willing to go?

"Saying I couldn't help it … is no apology. If I can't take my life into my own hands, then what am I coming to therapy for …?"

Seeming to relax a little, the raven-haired boy gave Kiba a soft pat on the shoulder, as if to make up for his own behavior. "The best way you could apologize to Shikamaru and Naruto is to let them hear an apology from the mouth of the real Kiba. Show them your resolve."

Searching Sasuke's eyes, Kiba suddenly asked, "It's just … why help me? Why now?"

"I told you already—that bastard Naruto has gotten upset over this incident." Sasuke arms found their way back into a shield across his chest. He looked sourly at his feet as he remembered the pained look on the blonde's face as he ran from the food-court in the mall. "And I hate it when he complains." Drawing in a deep breath, Sasuke turned and headed towards the door. "… That's all I wanted to say. What you do now is up to you. I'm leaving."

Kiba didn't make any attempt to stop the stony-eyed boy from leaving the room. Descending the stairs, Sasuke found Kiba's mother sizing up his skirt once more with another disgusted look.

"What was with all the yelling?" she asked.

"Horseplay," Sasuke said, scoffing inwardly. He walked to the door and started to slip on his shoes. "Well, I'll be going then. Thanks for your hospitality."

"You're welcome anytime," Mrs. Inuzuka replied noncommittally. She jogged over to open the door and see the young boy off.

"_Wait_!" Kiba shouted from upstairs. Both Sasuke and Kiba's mom turned around, surprised to see Kiba flying down the stairs, nearly killing himself on the way down. He ran right up to Sasuke and tackled him with a tight hug. "Thank you," he said. "No one's ever talked to me like that before. Not that it's something I particularly enjoy …"

He let go of Sasuke and then gave him a nervous but bright-eyed smile. In return, he received an insuppressible smirk as the pale boy realized, for the first time, he was looking at what definitely was "Kiba."

He wondered if the Inuzuka knew he'd already made his decision on who he was going to be.

**(XXX)**

A week had passed and Sasuke hadn't seen hide nor hair of Naruto. He'd tried calling Naruto at home, but it was always Iruka who answered, and he always told Sasuke that either Naruto was too busy studying or just not at home.

One time, Sasuke asked Iruka, "You're not covering for him, are you? Like lying to try and throw me off?"

"Now why would I do that?" Iruka asked. "Have you two gotten into a fight again?"

"What gave it away?" Sasuke said grumpily.

With a sigh, Iruka lowered his voice as if someone else were in the room to hear him. "I've never seen him like this. He's throwing himself into his textbooks for hours on end, studying and studying until he falls asleep at the table." Iruka's voice turned harsh. "I don't know what you did, but you need to understand something—Naruto's a sensitive child. More sensitive than you can possibly understand. Small things like an everyday fight can hurt him to the point of breaking. He's used to every fight being the last he has with someone."

Sasuke felt like he kind of understood what Iruka meant. But by the same token, Naruto was being frustratingly dedicated to ignoring his former acquaintance, and it was annoying Sasuke shitless. What Iruka didn't understand was that Naruto and Sasuke fought all the time. They talked with their fists a lot, but that was just how they sorted out their problems with one another. 'Sensitive?' What a joke. Naruto was damn nigh unshakable.

At least, Sasuke thought, there would be the next weekly session. Kakashi wouldn't let Naruto escape from that, and there Sasuke could corner the idiot.

Sasuke had never wanted Naruto. The blonde was just a reminder of everything Sasuke wasn't. Naruto was happy where he was in life—with his new friends in therapy, at least until just recently, he seemed to feel like he fit in. He had a great relationship with his foster parents, had a job, was working hard, and being successful. He had started to shed all his negative feelings from being abandoned and mentally dysfunctional. He was finally getting a taste of freedom.

But Sasuke was still stuck in his past. He was clinging to his skirts and high heels, because they were the only connection to his father, to his brother, and the family life the latter slaughtered, even though Sasuke's childhood was already broken to begin with. Those clothes were the only thing he could use as a tool to rebel against his brother, a man whose actions inspired so much hatred in him that he could kill him.

He wanted to scream at his older brother. He desperately wished for the chance.

'Why didn't you protect me from our father? Why didn't you pay more attention to me? Why weren't you there when I needed you the most?'

Even though he knew Naruto was a pathetic miserably orphaned kid just like himself, Sasuke couldn't help but feel that idiot had everything. He had _happiness_. True happiness. And that was something Sasuke didn't know how to get. All he knew was anger.

Those angry tendencies were the very same ones that had him standing in front of Naruto's front door on the day of the next session, piecing together what he wanted to say to try and salvage the somewhat-amicable relationship they'd had before.

He knocked on the door and was greeted shortly by Iruka.

"Ah, Sasuke, you're early," Iruka said with a gentle expression.

"Sorry," Sasuke said as he was ushered into the house. He hated to admit it, but Iruka's greetings and his smile always seemed to give the room some warmth, and today it was easing his nerves a bit. "I wanted to get here before everyone else so I could talk with Naruto. Where is he?"

"Bad news about that," Kakashi said, striding into the room. "Naruto just left a couple minutes ago. We tried to stop him, but he just wouldn't listen. Wouldn't explain why he was leaving, either."

At the word "we" a familiar head of pink hair popped out of kitchen from behind Kakashi. "He looked really upset," the person said.

"Sakura?" Sasuke asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"She's a new addition to the group, today's her first day," Kakashi informed the young raven. "I was hoping that everyone would be around to welcome her properly, but Naruto hardly even stayed long enough to introduce himself."

"Fuck," Sasuke cursed quietly to himself. "When did he leave?"

"Just a few minutes ago," Iruka supplied, looking very uncomfortable. Obviously he would be if his foster son just disappeared into the night without offering an explanation. "I was just about to go after him."

"Don't. I'll go," Sasuke said. "I'll bring him back before the session starts." He turned and headed for the door.

"Wait," Sakura said. "I'll come with you."

Sasuke's eyes narrowed at her. Shikamaru and Kiba weren't the only ones who knew her past reputation, and he'd more than once gotten sick and tired of her fawning over him at school. "Why should I take you?"

His irritation was met with a resolute and worried tone. "Naruto's going to be my friend soon, too. Friends need to look out for each other. Besides, until this year I was the MVP of the archery team. My greatest attribute was my eyesight. I can scout him out, and you can chase him down."

"I don't have time for you," Sasuke said, ignoring her. He pushed past Iruka and throwing open the door.

Sakura jogged over and caught the door before he could close it on her. "Then just pretend like I'm not there."

"Look, Sakura," Kakashi interjected, "It's great that you want to help, but you're a liability. I've promised your parents that you will be in a safe place with adults to watch over you. Sasuke can handle himself, but it's a lot more dangerous for a girl to be out by herself on the streets."

"Residential Konoha is the safest place in the world until night falls," Sakura argued. She tsked as she watched Sasuke run out the door and down the street. "I'll stick close to Sasuke-kun, and be back before you know it."

She made a mad-dash across the asphalt before anyone could stop her, following hotly in Sasuke's footsteps.

**(XXX)**

They checked at the park first. More often than not, Naruto and Sasuke found themselves chatting on a park bench (before inevitably fighting and chasing each other into the trees), so Sasuke suggested they look there.

Surprisingly, Sakura saved them a lot of time. While Sasuke looked around the picnic area, she climbed into a tree and looked out at the riverbed, where Naruto was nowhere to be found, and thus eliminated the need to search the river on foot.

Next they went and searched some of the local fast-food joints Naruto had dragged Sasuke to over the period of time they'd known each other. They checked the parking lots of nearby convenience stores to see if he'd stopped to grab something and rest a bit. When he still didn't turn up, they went to search the mall. Sasuke searched the individual storefronts on the bottom floor and let Sakura put her scouting to the test by searching for Naruto in the throng of people from the second-floor balcony.

Darting from store to store, Sasuke hurriedly checked the faces of people inside and then moved on. He needed to be quick, if he was going to check every individual store.

But the sign of one store in particular brought his search to a halt. He stood outside the shop, looking blankly up at the sign. This was the store Naruto brought him to when they bought him his rocker pants for the festival. Even though it was only a little while ago, Sasuke felt like a lot of time had passed—pushed them apart. But Naruto's words were still floating across the gap, invading Sasuke's mind and leaving him at a standstill.

"_I'm not stupid. I could tell they were laughing at me. But Sasuke, I don't care. If I cared I wouldn't hang out with you._ _I mean, you wear a skirt but you look like a man, talk like a man, and you don't try to be something you're not._ _I mean … it's cool. How you look so confident, even when everyone else is judging you."_

He tried to fight back a wave of guilt. There was no reason for him to feel guilty. He told that guy right from the start how things were, but the dumbass never listened. And yet …

_**He admired you.**_

Sasuke whipped his head around, suddenly hearing a voice.

"What …?"

He could've sworn he heard a low voice grumbling menacingly into his ear. He looked around for the source, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him.

"Sasuke-kun!" he heard approaching from his right side. He recognized the voice as Sakura's and turned to acknowledge her approach. She was out of breath, a flush over her cheeks and her eyes a triumphant, shimmering green. "I saw him!"

"You did? Are you sure it was him?"

She nodded furiously. "When I met him earlier, he was wearing a metal headband with a symbol on it. He's still wearing it, so he was easy to pick out. Hurry, this way!"

Sasuke followed Sakura into the crowd, noticing that she was parting the waves of people with incredible ease. When the path opened up a little more, she pointed at someone ahead of them, and said, "There!"

When Sasuke saw who she was pointing at, he knew there was no mistake. That was definitely Naruto, wearing the outfit they'd gotten together. The blonde was leaning on one of the columns holding up the second-floor balcony, hands in his pockets, and looking for all the world like he felt completely out of place.

With a sigh of relief, Sasuke said, "Alright, let's sneak up on him and—"

Right at that moment, Naruto just happened to crane his neck in Sasuke's direction, and they met eyes, trading their astonishment. Then Naruto was off like a bolt of lightning, heading through the front doors of the mall.

"Shit!" Sasuke cursed. The crowd was starting to cascade over the two pursuers again, making it hard to walk. "We gotta catch up to him!"

"Stupid people!" Sakura said, running into a few mall-goers who looked very offended at her comments. "Get out of my way! Shannaroooo—!"

She hunkered down and used her shoulders and forearms to split the tide like the Red Sea. She cleared a wide path and caused a lot of commotion and collisions along the way, but her efforts allowed her and Sasuke to barrel through the people in no time and escape out the front door.

"There!" Sakura said, pointing down the street at Naruto as he was disappearing around the corner. "Let's get him!"

They took off after Naruto, giving him a run for his money as they weaved through alleyways, chased him through the bushes in the park, and out of downtown and into the Konoha High district. Soon enough the school was in view and the blonde man ran straight to the back of the building towards the sports fields behind. The perimeter surrounding the fields was fenced off from the public, and not allowed to be accessed without prior consent or a chaperone present. But Naruto didn't seem to care about that, seeing as how he hopped the fence with ease and made a beeline straight through the soccer field.

As Sasuke approached the fence, he realized that the fence was too high for him to jump in his heels. He'd have to stop and scramble over it, and waste precious time.

"Sakura," he shouted to his companion.

"I know, I can't make that jump either," she said, huffing and nearly out of breath. "Hold on. I have an idea. Keep going and don't slow down."

She forced her gait to quicken further and pulled ahead of Sasuke quickly with the huge burst of energy she exerted. She reached the fence before he did and dug her feet into the ground, skidding to a stop. Then with her back leaning on the fence for support, she held both her hands out and looked Sasuke dead in the eye, hoping he'd understand what she was trying to do.

_She's going to boost me?! _Sasuke thought to himself. _The heels on these stilettoes are going to hurt her hands. Will she even be able to hold me?_

But it was too late to think about backing down. His body was moving fast enough that if he tried to stop he'd just drive himself head-first into the fence. And even when he recovered, there would be those damned extra seconds necessary to crawl over to the other side. He had no choice.

Holding his breath, he stepped up into Sakura's hands. Straining to hold him up, Sakura gave him one, huge swift lift and catapulted him over the fence and to the grass on the other side. He stuck the landing perfectly and without even a wobble on his high-heeled shoes, he kept running after the blonde man who was currently scampering towards the track field.

"Bring him back! I'll meet you at the house!" Sakura yelled after Sasuke.

He looked up and saw that the afternoon sky was slowly turning to dusk and darkness. Sakura had promised to be back at Iruka's place before it got too dark. Giving a quick glance back at the fence where he left Sakura behind, he saw her head popping up over the other side, a fist extended in the air in determination. Then she was gone. He muttered a silent thanks to the pink-haired girl in his heart.

From there on, it was only a matter of seconds before Sasuke had run Naruto down. The blonde might be able to throw him off when running on a winding path, but when running in a straight line, there was no contest. Sasuke ended their chase with a grandiose tackle that sent both of them rolling through artificial turf. When they came to a stop, Naruto managed to worm his way out of Sasuke's grip again and jumped to his feet.

"Wait, usuratonkachi—!" Sasuke shouted, getting back on his own feet. But when he put weight down on his legs he buckled and with a very undignified noise proceeded to eat dirt. The sound was enough to get Naruto's attention and make him pause. He watched as Sasuke tried once more to get back up. Crippling pain shot through Sasuke's legs, disabling him, and pulling him back to the ground again. The pressure of his racing blood and the pain were slowly increasing, nurturing him into a living hell, even in his stasis.

Noticing something was amiss, Naruto made his way back over, panting heavily, trying to make up for the air he lost in their long chase. A sudden shock blew his recovered air right back out of his lungs.

"Sasuke … you …" he gasped, "Did you run all this way in your heels?"

He received a stony glare in return, but the coldness it held was different from usual. This time, the chill was desperate, and agonized. His legs had begun to tremble. "Yeah? What about it? You should've seen it when we started running."

Kneeling down at Sasuke's side, Naruto reinforced his concerns with a small voice. "Sasuke, those heels are high, even for you."

The pale boy's whole lower half was shaking as if possessed. Naruto grabbed his legs and argued the form-fitting shoes off the other boy's feet. Trying to hold the writhing feet in place, Naruto panicked, asking weakly, "Why are they jumping like that?"

"I don't know, Naruto, have you ever tried running a track field in a pair of Eve Maddens?" Sasuke leaned back on his elbows on the grass with a grunt. He should've borrowed some of Naruto's shoes before running out of the house like an idiot. "Look, I'm having some serious cramps, and if you don't let my feet rest, I think a vein's going to pop."

"Well what am I supposed to—?"

"_Put my feet down!_" Sasuke growled painfully and threw his head back when Naruto simply let his feet fall with a harsh smack against the ground. "God, don't just _drop_ them …!"

"Well what am I _supposed_ to do?!"

"Just—!" Gritting his teeth, Sasuke grabbed for Naruto's shirt. He spoke in a strained voice. "Just come here a minute. Don't you raise a motherfucking finger after you do, and don't you dare go anywhere. Just come sit here until my legs stop hurting."

For once, Naruto did as he was told without complaint, and sat beside Sasuke, watching over his shaky body as it curled in on itself slightly.

"Sasuke." That normally-energetic voice was laced with fear, rising higher with every word. "Do you have a cell-phone on you? Let's call somebody—!"

"Naruto, it's just a fucking cramp!" Sasuke shouted. He paid for it afterwards when the tension caused his cramps to worsen. "Stop fussing over me like I'm some bitch!"

"You're not a bitch!" Naruto yelled.

"I _know_ that! You're not either, so stop acting like one! Stop _rolling over_ for one little knot in my legs." Sasuke's face stopped contorting in pain, leaving his legs as the only things shaking. "No … for one little problem in _somebody else's_ life."

Confusion crossed Naruto's features. "What are you talking about?"

"When we first met, I hated you. I hated everything about you." One look at Naruto was all it took and he could feel jealousy pumping through him along with the frantic pulsing of his blood. He said honestly, "I still hate you."

The blonde winced and looked away, rubbing his neck. He thought Sasuke might admit it eventually, but hearing it hurt a lot more than he thought it would. Like a searing, tearing pain as if a part of him were ripped away, or like he'd realized the part had been missing since the start.

"But even if I shunned you, you still kept trying. That's how it's always been," Sasuke said somberly. He kept his eyes on his feet as they started to calm their spasming. "And I've never once asked for you to leave."

"Maybe not, but—"

"Then at the first sign of trouble in somebody else's life, you decided to take a dive and just walk away. Like you were _trying_ to find a way out."

"But that's not true! You—!"

"You're pissy because I was forced to hang out with you. But how do I know you give a rat's ass about me?" Sasuke interrupted, pinning Naruto's eyes even in the darkness. "I don't. And to be honest, I don't really care. But I hate to put a dog down without a fight. So if you want to be my friend, prove that you're worth my time. You're not going to prove yourself if you run away like a coward."

They both fell to silence as Sasuke's tense muscles finally loosened and relaxed fully. He let out a deep, exhausted sigh. They sat quietly together, finally having some peace, and watched the sky until the first star started to peek out from behind a cloud.

"Of course I want to be your friend," Naruto said. "It's just … I'm tired of feeling so lonely. I can't make friends at school like you, so all I have are Iruka-sensei and Kakashi-sensei, and they're always busy. I thought I'd met all these cool friends, and that we all had strong bonds, and then in a day, I felt like everything was taken away. On a day that was supposed to be a celebration."

With a heavy tone, Naruto rested his chin on his knees. "Until Iruka-sensei showed up, nobody ever loved me. No one even liked me. I was some fucked-in-the-head kid no one wanted. I was garbage. My friends changed that. I never wanted to lose it again. And then to learn I never had it to begin with …"

"Yeah, well some shit we just have to deal with," Sasuke said harshly. "Nobody likes feeling unwanted, but we're the defective goods, Naruto. And even though we're not technically friends, we're still the same trash to everyone else. We're still in this together."

Sitting up straight, Naruto scowled at Sasuke. "You have a horrible outlook on life." He wasn't dignified with a response.

A voice from far away drew their attention back in the direction they came. Sasuke was surprised to see Sakura climbing over the fence and running towards them.

"Sakura?" He asked. "Why are you back here? I thought we were going to meet up at the house?"

"Yeah, I know I said that, but …" She grinned sheepishly. "I couldn't just leave you guys here alone, either. Nighttime might be dangerous for me, but it's dangerous for you too."

"My legs are better now. We should probably head back," Sasuke said to Naruto. He slowly got to his feet and grimaced at the aching pain setting his heels on fire. "I'm never wearing these shoes again."

Naruto blanched with sudden realization. "Iruka-sensei's gonna be mad …"

"I'm in a lot of trouble with Hatake-san now, too. So much for making a good first impression," Sakura groaned.

"Well, let's all go face the music together," Sasuke said.

**(XXX)**

Since Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura got back just as Shikamaru arrived, and since Iruka saw that the two boys seemed to have worked out their argument, the lecture and discussion sure to come was postponed until after the session.

Kiba was the only one not present. When they asked Kakashi why, he didn't seem to want to answer.

Sasuke answered for him, saying, "Kiba wanted to think about his behavior by himself so he can apologize for the incident at the festival properly. Just give him some time."

Naruto and Shikamaru seemed confused as to why Sasuke would know Kiba's situation so well, but they didn't pursue the subject much further in light of their new addition waiting to be inducted into the group.

Everyone finished settling in the living room and then Sakura was introduced to the present members. When asked why she was in therapy, she shrugged and said at length, "I'm bipolar. I'm already on some pretty heavy meds right now, but my parents want to deal with my mood swings a little closer to the source." Shikamaru welcomed her rather uneasily due to past experiences with her, but Sasuke, with some newfound tolerance for her, and Naruto, who just really liked meeting new people, were considerately more amicable.

Before they could start any in-depth discussion with each other under Kakashi's guidance, the therapist went around and asked what was new. All other replies got drowned out by Naruto's loud voice as he presented his new headband, showing it off. When he mentioned what it was for, everyone murmured in acknowledgment.

"I found an old one of those in my family's belongings somewhere," Sasuke said.

"My old man used to be in the military, too. He wore that headband all the time," Shikamaru supplied. "I think Kiba mentioned something about his sister and father also having been in the service."

"My parents showed me one of those once," Sakura said. "It was passed down from my grandmother. Except her headband was red."

"Red is a color of headband commonly worn by medics," Iruka said as he brought in some tea and began to serve his guests. "They often have to venture into the front lines to reach the injured, so they use colorful clothing accents to make themselves more visible to wounded soldiers when they move across the battlefield."

"Seems like everyone here has military heritage," Shikamaru noted.

"What about you, Kakashi-sensei?" Naruto asked.

The white-haired man smiled slightly and exchanged a secret glance with Iruka. "Yes. My father was in the military, and I own one of the Konoha headbands."

"I got an idea," Naruto said, clapping his hands together. "Let's all start wearing the Konoha headband. It can be like our insignia."

"You mean at meetings?" Kakashi asked.

"We should wear them anywhere we can. For symbolical reasons," Naruto said. When he got strange looks, he continued, "Hear me out. Everything about the spring festival at school and the training for Konoha soldiers is supposed to represent overcoming harsh obstacles so that eventually, there can be peace. Since I started wearing this headband, every time I get ready and look in the mirror in the morning, I'm reminded of a soldier's commitment, and it makes me feel strong and confident. It helps me keep my goal in mind and makes me feel like what I'm working for is within reach. We could at least all try it, and if we don't like it, we don't have to wear the headbands."

Everyone looked back and forth between one another. They seemed to be uncertain, but at the same time something in their expressions indicated they might be curious about Naruto's idea.

"Alright. How about we run a trial period with the headbands … say, wearing them every day for about two or three weeks?" Kakashi suggested. "Then, if after that we're just not feeling the vibe, we can stop."

The kids exchanged shrugs and nods with each other. Nobody but Naruto was especially keen on having to include the new accessory, but after all the excitement that day and the fact that Shikamaru was sort of lazy anyway, everyone was too tired to offer anything but mild acceptance.

"I'll text Kiba and let him know," Shikamaru said, and began tapping away on the keys on his phone.

**(XXX)**

When Asuma got off the phone that same night after talking with Shikamaru, he was feeling a little more refreshed and at ease. That boy had a weird way of clearing all the clutter out of a person's mind.

Lowering himself onto the couch, Asuma lit a cigarette and reclined with his sight aimed up at the ceiling. He heard the sound of his fiancée's footsteps approaching, closer and closer until he felt a soft kiss pressed to his forehead.

"How is Shikamaru doing?" she asked.

"He seems well," Asuma said, sharing a smile with her. "His friends have been talking about the military lately, so I was telling him some about my experiences in the service."

She frowned. "I'm surprised that's not a sensitive subject for you."

"Of course not," Asuma assured her gently, cradling her as she came to sit beside him. "I met a lot of life-long friends in the military. People I respect, and owe my life to. I made good memories."

"Yeah, but some bad ones too." She snuggled up closer to him, hiding her worried face. "And you remember what the doctor said. Your condition might have been _caused_ from something you encountered on the battlefield."

"Even if it was caused by something I encountered in the military, there's no use crying over spilled milk."

"Speaking of the doctor …" Kurenai looked up into her lover's warm brown eyes. "Have you told Shikamaru yet?"

"No," Asuma said, face falling. "I don't think I should tell him. Unless this turns out to be something that really can't be fixed, I don't want to worry him."

"You're worrying _me_ with your inane calmness," Kurenai sighed helplessly. "Can't you be at least a little more concerned? Promise you'll go see the doctor this week."

"Alright, I'll go check in with him again."

"You promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Because if you run away again like you did the last time …"

"Yeah, yeah I understand," Asuma said, squeezing her. "I'll go see Dr. Orochimaru again as soon as I can."

**(XXX)**

Notes: So, before anybody jumps on me, yes I know that a person with a condition similar to Kiba's might not be able to help their episodes, or control themselves at all. But in Kiba's case, with a mental battle that didn't seem to find assistance from the meds he was taking, his will is all he has left. So Sasuke's outburst wasn't really a mistake, and was long-overdue. But I want everyone to understand that I know there are cases out there where a person really can't help themselves, and one should never do what Sasuke did, and shake a person and tell them to "get over it." Sasuke's just a little screwy in the head, too. But because of it, Kiba's finally going to be able to move forward with his life a little more and learn something about himself. Sasuke pretends like he doesn't care about that wolf-boy, but he does. They'd be really good friends if they weren't so different.

Speaking of Sasuke, his shoe brand is actually Steve Maddens but I made a joke on the brand name because it's just fun to do. Hope you liked my take on Sakura. I don't like the original one, so I tried to keep a similar personality in the writing, but show the better sides of that personality instead of the sides of her I dislike (which are the sides she always seems to be showing). I also hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter, and how I introduced the concept of the shinobi headbands.

Thanks to **Moonlit Water Sunny River** for making me feel special and motivated to finish this chapter. Also, huge thanks to Autty (**Autumn-is-beautiful**)—I don't know if I've mentioned Autty yet, but you should definitely look up the username. I can't express my thanks enough for how Autty has helped me think about what I want to do for Sasuke in the future as far as plot and character development are concerned. And, another HUGE thanks to **The Raven and the Fox** for being so nice to me and writing a side of Sasuke that I don't really have the skill to write. At least if they're writing that side, I can read and learn from it. But both Autty and R&F were super helpful and nice to me, and Sunny has been so supportive, so I just wanted to bump them. Please check out their writing, and I hope you get the privilege to talk with them and get to know them!

Hopefully some other additional stuff for RHF coming in the next day or so. Wait with great anticipation! I love you all, and thrive on your feedback! I take writing requests, so feel free to shoot me one. Favorite and review if you like. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	17. Midnight Walks and Club-Room Talks

**Disclaimer: You know the drill by now. Naruto is not mine. The series and all rights to its contents belong to Masashi Kishimoto and all those who share the rights to his franchise. THIS PROJECT IS NON-PROFIT. NO MONEY IS MADE FROM THE WORK YOU SEE HERE. This writing is only for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release.**

INTRODUCTION: So, here's a little extra somethin'-somethin' to try and make up for all my inactivity. I'm trying my best to make room for the other characters quickly so that nobody gets bored or dismayed that someone isn't going to show up. All in good time! (Which I've been taking too much of recently.) Just so you know, this chapter calls back to some information presented in chapter seven. If you're confused, go back and take a look.

I hope you enjoy this and hold tight to your patience.

**(XXX)**

Like Sasuke had observed, Naruto wasn't one to crumble at the slightest dispute. His mind was weak, but his heart was strong. If he wasn't strong enough to handle a little fear and doubt, he would have died a long time ago, all alone, in one of his thieved houses by the barrel of a fearful father's gun.

But Sasuke was special. He could hurt Naruto in a way no one else could. Naruto had felt it since that night they met, before they even knew each other's names …

A traditional Japanese home in a complex of two-story homes, with white walls and black roofs. Hardwood floors and a small table with a couple of weeds in a vase on top of it. Naruto had walked the halls without his feet really touching the floor. His aching stomach drew him towards the kitchen, his mind sharp and ready but far-off, as if a part of him was there but another part of himself was lingering somewhere behind him.

The walls towered over his young body, and their pale white felt of the coldest of revulsions. A wall-clock ticked angrily, and happy family portraits looked upon their visitor with disgust. The whole house felt like a lifetime of anger had been poured into it, gently nurtured, and planted in every crevice that would hold it. Though his instincts told him to turn back, Naruto pushed on through all the feelings of unwelcome. He made his way to the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk and some cereal to take back with him, hoping to quickly escape and get away from the negativity surrounding him.

He was on his way back down the hall from the kitchen when he thought he heard the sound of wind behind him, a shrill, quiet whistle. Like an outside breeze pushing through an open door. And then, like a shock of electricity down his spine, he felt it for the first time.

The presence of another person. A flash of white skin housing a dark mind, a heart withering like a flower dropping its petals.

He heard the sound of feet pattering behind him, and turned just in time to catch a glimpse of orange fur disappearing around the corner of the hallway. Those footsteps echoed down the corridor and bounced back and forth between the walls of his skull. And through those echoes, his ears picked up a voice than rang clearly against the rippling noises in his head.

A door cracked open, and the sound of crying. The sound startled him so badly that he dropped his food, the milk carton spilling all over the hardwood. He held his head, willing all the sounds to go away, only for the crying voice to rise in volume gradually, filling up his head more and more, until finally—

_**Someone … please save me.**_

Then a sizzling pain seared along the inside of Naruto's thigh. His breath caught at the sudden, unexplainable pain. He didn't have time to contemplate before the pain was back, blazing a trail across his right wrist. When he looked at his right arm, he gaped in horror to see he was sliced open and bleeding, his blood running down his skin in a stream of shimmering, light blue. Then the pain was back again on his thighs, two quick bursts of stinging pain across his left and another on his right, both dangerously close to some very important parts of him.

He let out a strangled yelp and bit his lip. The marks on his skin were burning without ceasing. But the pain went deeper than his skin. It dove through his muscles, cutting through his bones, and into a part of himself even farther within, a part he couldn't explain. He felt as if his very existence was being cut and nicked, like he was being struck at the soul. Like he was being erased bit by bit. All the while, the echoes danced in his brain and the voice getting louder, and yet softer at the same time.

_**Why won't you save me?**_

The sound of quiet, frantic squeaks, as if some mouse were in a room he could never reach was slowly being skinned alive. The noise set off another chain of sparks down his back and he felt it again. The feeling of another person, so close, and yet so far. He knew the voice in his head belonged to this person. Along with the voice, he now felt two hands inside of him, though he could see nothing in front of him. Fingers grasping at his insides, they gently tugged his whimpering form through the hallway and to a door cracked open, the faintest sliver of light seeping out. Naruto could still feel the hands inside of him, tethering him without escape. They beckoned him to taste the curiosity of who could be behind the door.

He allowed himself to be consumed by intrigue and peeked into the room. There he saw the back of a head covered in dark locks and the ivory skin of a young boy's naked back. All at once, all the echoing ceased, disappearing in the wake of the soft sounds of the boy's sniffling and ragged breathing. In his left hand, he held a small thin object. He stared at it in contemplation, as if reconsidering something.

_**No one will come to save me.**_

He held the edge of the object to his wrist.

_**I'm all alone.**_

Naruto's body jumped forward on its own, as if to try and intercept the boy in the room. He rammed his head into the door and cried out in pain. The dark-haired boy whipped his head around and looked straight into Naruto's eyes for a split second.

In the moment that their gazes connected, as if he'd been plugged in, Naruto felt his senses, the senses of the him that was far-off, and the senses of the boy in the other room suddenly all align. His spine and the boy's, his eyes and ears and his heart and mind, were knowing the same things that the other boy knew and felt.

A thousand images flashed through Naruto's mind, and he saw through the other boy's eyes that this wasn't the first time he had done this. Over and over again, day after day, new marks in each arm. New marks in his thighs, and in places Naruto didn't even want to imagine.

But he had to, because he was feeling it. He was feeling everything. He was seeing the blood drip from a thousand wounds all at the same time, until his vision was stained with red. In a split second, all the anguish in a young boy's life had been unloaded onto another.

So much red.

It couldn't have been possible. There was just too much.

He was a kid. He was only a kid. It wasn't right.

He was so small.

How can something that small—?

**So much red.**

After that, the only thing Naruto remembered was falling onto his back, and looking up at his own face. The face of the him that had lingered behind until now. And yet, he was looking down on himself too. The face looking down on him, with its dead eyes, was almost as sinister as the red eyes of a fox that trotted up to his side as well to watch over him with an eerie smile.

Long after that night, when Naruto met Sasuke again, he knew there was no mistaking it. There was a connection between them. That boy had called out to him, and his heart had answered, despite all the fear and the pain. There was something Sasuke needed from Naruto, and something Naruto could gain from Sasuke.

The thing that burned Naruto most of all, was Sasuke didn't realize it. He tried to pin the blame for their friendship on Kakashi, without knowing that it was himself who cried for Naruto's appearance in the first place. And after all the jackass comments Sasuke made, and all the times he tried to pass their relationship off as obligation, Naruto was starting to doubt the connection he thought they'd made when they were younger. A connection he couldn't forget no matter how much he wanted to.

And Naruto couldn't bear to face the thought that Sasuke didn't need him as much as he needed Sasuke. He'd rather run away than have to accept it.

**(XXX)**

In Kiba's house, there was no privacy. His mother and his sister, Hana, were always barging into his room, going through his things, and howling with laughter as they made jokes about their little weirdo brother and son. Especially his mother, though, made it nigh impossible to have a private moment, save for sometimes when a friend was over. For the most part, Kiba had gotten used to it, but lately Hana had enlisted in the military, and was due to move to her new base within the next couple of months. They'd had a typical brother and sister relationship before, but when he heard she would be going away soon, he felt an urge to learn more about her. But every time he tried to ask her a serious question at home, his mother would barge into the room and make some snarky comment or laugh at him.

So, he and Hana resolved to make time every Wednesday to go out to a restaurant and talk to each other. Some of their chatting was the same easy-going banter they knew as siblings, but most of the time they talked about serious things.

Hana told Kiba things about his father, whom he'd never known that well. She said he was mostly a good man, and had always been kind to his children. But it seemed like he never agreed with their mother, and they always fought. He couldn't handle his problems with his wife and immersed himself in his work with the military about the time Kiba was three years old. The last their mother heard was that he had been escorting a caravan full of supplies through Rice Fields**(1)** country and the whole caravan and escort team just vanished. That was when Kiba was eight, and even now the search still continued for his father and his team.

Hana said she'd been angry with her parents for always fighting, but said she had a lot of admiration for her father especially. He was a strong man, who was loyal to his team, and full of courage. Their mother said once that when she was pregnant with Hana, she and her husband walked into a convenience store that was being robbed by armed men, and they shot at her. Her husband pulled her out of the way, hid her somewhere in the back of the store, and then ran out to confront the gunman. Next thing their mother knew, the police were arriving on the scene, finding that her husband had disarmed and incapacitated the criminals. He was praised in the newspaper for being a hero, and Hana cut out the article to show to Kiba.

Her father's courage and strength inspired her. But beyond that, it was his commitment to protecting his country. She felt like she owed it to his memory to follow in his footsteps and become the kind of person he was—the kind of person she wanted to be. She had been so obsessed with her dreams and her training that her current boyfriend dumped her because he was being so staunchly ignored.

Kiba was a little worried himself that his sister would go off to war and forget all about her family the same way she forgot about her boyfriend. But when he mentioned this, she just laughed and assured him nothing of the sort would happen.

"Do you remember much about Dad?" Hana asked against the pleasant droning of the other patrons in the restaurant.

"I remember getting a couple of letters from him," Kiba said, silverware clinking against his plate, "but other than that, he hasn't really been around enough for me to have memories of him."

"You've grown up without much of a male role model," Hana admitted regretfully.

"Ma seems to think if I had, I would have turned out better," Kiba sighed.

"Don't say that. She loves you the way you are."

"I know she loves me. But you can love someone and still be disgusted by them."

There was some brief awkward silence. "She said one of your friends from therapy came to visit the other day," Hana mentioned. "Said it sounded like you two got pretty rough."

"Yeah," Kiba said. A small smile crept over his face. "Just needed a kick in the pants."

"I've been meaning to ask you," Hana said, "Mom says that with all the weird stuff happening with your brain right now, one of the things you mentioned is you think you're gay. Is that right?" When Kiba nodded, she asked, "How can you be sure? Your memories and feelings get mixed up sometimes, right?"

"Well, the trouble is, I can't be sure," Kiba shrugged. "I have to decide who I am and what I feel, and force myself to make it permanent."

"Well … I mean, do you like girls? Are you attracted to them?" Hana asked.

Kiba thought about it for a moment. "Not really. That might be just because I don't know many girls besides Hinata, who's more like a sister to me than anything. Though … even when I had that one serious girlfriend a while ago, I wasn't very attracted to her."

"But how do you know you're attracted to guys? Like, does looking at them turn you on?"

Kiba blushed in embarrassment at her sister's shamelessness. "I don't think it's that either, particularly. I don't get like that just hanging out with my guy friends. I mean, maybe once in a while on the street, I'll catch myself staring at some dude's ass, but it's not something that keeps me up all night."

Hana looked around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned in. "You loved that Shino guy for a while, right?" Hana asked gently. "What made you decide you liked him? How'd he make you feel?"

"There were a lot of things that made me like him," Kiba said. "Things I liked about him even before I got cracked in the head. He was weird, but he did a lot of nice things for me and Hinata, and … I felt like the things he did made him beautiful."

"So maybe he's just an exception," Hana suggested.

"That's not right either, though," Kiba said. "I'm still pretty sure if I was going to date someone again, I'd want it to be a guy instead of a girl."

"Why?"

"I guess …" Kiba started, then stopped himself to think. "For one thing, girlfriends are viewed like a status symbol. However far you got with a hot girl is how good of a man you are. And not only the boys know people think this, but the girls know too, so the girls are constantly trying to make you convince them that you really love them. They never believe you when you say you care, because they're afraid they'll be abandoned. Girls have always seemed so insecure and delicate to me, like if you squeeze one too hard, she'll break. But all the guys I've known are stronger than that. You can be a little too rough with each other. You can get mad and have a fistfight, and then go home and have a meal together and be friends again. You can turn your backs on each other one day and forgive the next. It feels so … safe. Like you could lay yourself bare and smile about it."

He thought about Shikamaru. Obviously the boy had a fractured mind, considering all the things Kiba had been told about Shikamaru's time in jail, his move-in with Chouji, and his problems with his parents. Even still, he was so strong. He could still laugh and smile like a normal person, fight and get irritated, show sadness and compassion, and no one would be any the wiser that he'd killed a man. Even though Kiba knew that man was full of kindness, he'd treated him so horribly because of a crime that would haunt the lazy boy for the rest of his life.

"You can't put too much stress on them, because they're only human," Kiba continued. "But they don't break easily." He sighed. "I don't know, I just feel tired of tiptoeing around other people, being stared at like I'm a freak. I felt that way even when my brain was normal. My guy friends were always there to remind me that I'm stronger than those people that belittle me, and that I have someone to lean on."

They lapsed back into an awkward silence for a while, quietly eating their food.

"I will say though, Sis," Kiba said, "that if a girl like you or Ma turned up at my doorstep, I'd date her in a heartbeat."

"Oh yeah?" Hana perked up. "Why's that?"

"Just like with strong men, I can't resist a strong woman."

His sister grinned widely at that, baring her canines like a wolf.

**(XXX)**

Student Council President Neji was carrying a stack of papers through the hallway when he saw a familiar figure standing in front of the door to the kickboxing club's room. Work had left Neji a little stir-crazy, so he decided to engage the figure in conversation.

"You look rather forlorn, Lee," Neji called out.

The boy in question looked back at Neji in surprise, then smiled. "Ah, I suppose I am! I very much miss kickboxing, but it cannot be helped." Lee presented one of his crutches to illustrate his point.

"Did you come to watch a match? Most everyone has left the school grounds by now," Neji said.

"I watched a match earlier, but I was hoping to get into the room and take a look at the equipment," Lee said. "I want to make sure everything's being properly taken care of."

"Ever the dedicated man," Neji said, shaking his head with a bit of a smirk. Lee could be a bit annoying sometimes, but after being around him so much, he'd developed a little bit of a fondness for the fuzzy-browed man.

"Unfortunately, the door is locked," Lee said, disheartened. "So I was giving a last look at the equipment through the window."

"I have a spare key in the Student Council room," Neji offered. "I'll go drop these papers off and come back and unlock the door for you."

"Really?" Lee smiled, round eyes twinkling. "Thank you very much!" When Neji began to walk off, Lee called out, "Maybe after you unlock the door, we could have a match? I am dying to see how your martial arts have improved!"

"Even if you weren't injured, the answer would be 'no,'" Neji retorted before leaving Lee alone to wait.

When the president returned with the key, to his surprise, the door was already unlocked.

"Did they just forget to lock up?" he mumbled to himself.

"There may still be somebody inside in the back part of the room where they keep the spare equipment," Lee theorized. "Sometimes the veterans will stay late and double-check on everything before locking up."

"Hm." Neji gave Lee the key, saying, "Either way, take this and make sure you lock up when you're done. I'll be here another hour, so bring it back to me before you leave."

Lee nodded dutifully and stepped inside the clubroom, closing the door behind him. Once inside he closed his eyes, feeling the evening sun filter through the window onto his face, and the calming feeling this room always gave him.

All Lee's life, he'd been a hot-blooded freak. When he was young, he didn't get the best grades, so what he lacked in brains he made up for in physical activity. He was learning martial arts by the age of ten, an art that seemed to have fallen out of style with the kids of his childhood. Sometimes he'd practice in a field by himself, kicking and punching at the air, and kids would follow him after school just to laugh at him.

They told him he should just save his energy and study at home so he wouldn't be so stupid. And maybe he could get his mom to pluck his eyebrows so he wouldn't look like such a hairy freak. Lee lived a long time believing there was something wrong with him, until he was in high school, where he met Maito Gai. Gai not only coached soccer, but was the supervising captain of the kickboxing club. He took time after everybody else was gone to teach Lee kickboxing one-on-one, and molded him into an optimist. Gai always made Lee feel like he was special. Through Gai he'd met Neji, who had also taken martial arts, and was the genius of the high school. Lee had challenged Neji to a fight once and lost miserably. Ever since then, Lee made Neji his rival, in fighting and in academics.

This clubroom had so many happy memories. Lee opened his eyes to look at the punching bags in the corner of the room. He wished he could drop his crutches and do a little boxing, but he much preferred being right side up to being flat on his face.

Most of the equipment he was worried about was in the back. There were some dummies for practice on the human body, but a few had been falling into disrepair lately. There were minor fixes the club members could do, so Lee tried to check as often as he could and see if there was anything he could fix. He'd check on those first.

As he made his way across the room, he heard a weird noise coming from the room he was heading towards.

_One of the club members?_ he thought.

Then suddenly something burst through the door right into Lee's face. He found himself crashing to the floor, ending up lying underneath one of the dummies, its dingy face staring blankly at him. He heard the sound of feet coming up next to his head, then somebody pulled the dummy up and out of his line of sight, and ran out of the room. Lee struggled into a sitting position and looked at the door, then looked back towards the back room when he heard another set of footsteps.

The red-head who jumped out of the back room looked just as surprised as Lee did.

"Gaara-kun?" Lee asked.

The other boy didn't answer, just glanced at Lee's crutches lying flat and befuddled on the floor.

"Why are you here?" Lee asked. "Who was that who ran out just now?"

"My brother," Gaara answered.

Looking disbelievingly back at the door again, Lee asked, "Did he just take one of the dummies with him?"

"He's got his own issues." Surprisingly, Gaara took the time to pick up Lee's crutches and help the injured boy to his feet.

"Thanks," Lee said, taking the crutches and leaning on them. Even though obviously Gaara was in the middle of something important, Lee had to ask, "Is everything going well with Kakashi-san?"

He received a stony glare in return. "So you were the one who set me up with that man."

"Sorry?" Lee said sheepishly. "Some of my friends are in therapy, and I heard about him from them, so I thought maybe he would be helpful."

For some reason, Gaara seemed really angry. But then again, according to everything else Lee knew about the boy, Gaara was always angry.

"I've got to catch up to my brother," Gaara said gruffly, and walked past Lee.

Before Gaara could get out the door, Lee said, "Wait." Unexpectedly, Gaara stopped walking and turned to face Lee.

"If I have caused you some kind of trouble by my suggestion, I am truly sorry," he said. "I feel no ill will towards you." He paused, seeing the words were having no effect on Gaara. With a sigh, Lee smiled a little. "If you ever are in the neighborhood and you have the time, please drop by either here or the soccer fields. I would like to see you again."

Those last words made Gaara's eyes widen just a fraction. He stared at Lee for a long time with his icy, piercing gaze. Sizing him up, like he'd done in the hospital.

It seemed like he'd never stop staring, so Lee just shrugged and turned, saying, "See you later."

He hobbled into the back room, feeling Gaara's eyes on his back until the very minute he shut the door behind himself. When he began to check the dummies, he remembered there was one missing. He hopped back over to the door, wanting to ask Gaara if he could retrieve it, but when he looked into the main room, Gaara was gone.

With another sigh, Lee went back to checking the rest of the equipment, wondering if he had enough money to replace the dummy on his own.

**(XXX)**

– In case you don't remember, the Land of Rice Fields was what the Land of Sound was before Orochimaru came along.

Notes: PHEEEEW. Wrote this in like one sitting. Hope you like this extra stuff. And Kankuro's coming soon, guys! Hope you have some extra insight on this story and the characters now. Please favorite and review if you liked! I always want to hear feedback!

Also, just another reminder—please check out the pages for my friends Autty (**Autumn-is-beautiful**), **The Raven and the Fox**, and **Moonlit Water Sunny River**. All three of these people have been very helpful to me in the past and are great people. You'll find links to their pages on my profile page.


	18. Been Burning, Will Yearn

**Disclaimer:** **Naruto doesn't belong to me. All characters, settings, and scenarios associated with the manga, anime, and video games belong to Masashi Kishimoto and his partners. NO PROFIT IS BEING MADE OFF OF THIS. This project is done only for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release.**

INTRODUCTION: So, sorry that updates are slow as usual. I've been keeping up with another serial fanfiction, have had oneshots all over the place, am starting college, am trying to write my own novel stuff, and do drawings and cosplay all at the same time. I'm making it all work, just not in a timely fashion. Also sorry that the previous chapters are still an editorial mess, but … maybe I'll get it cleaned up soon.

So, some progress here! I'm thinking of posting far shorter chapters so that I can get updates out more quickly. Tell me what you prefer length-wise.

**(XXX)**

In the silence and the muted "good morning" shivered and rustled out by thin, flat-green curtains, Lee was once again missing the loving hand of his mother which once stroked his cheek to wake him. He sat up, gently rubbing the past night's dreams from his eyes, and checked the clock just to make sure it was indeed 6:30 A.M. and he did indeed need to wake up and get ready for school.

About ten years had passed since new-mom came into the picture. Lee had been very young when his father got remarried, and had called her "arata-kaa-chan**(1)**." His father told him to call her "mother," but she took a liking to Lee's nickname, and carried on using it with her step-son, their own personal running joke on his father, who didn't find the nickname so amusing.

Lee loved her dearly, but he never quite got used to her. She still had that new-mom smell of autumn and cranberry, that new-mom skin on her palms which she was so hesitant to touch him with, that new-mom smile and heart and vigor of a newlywed—though he loved her more for it. Despite loving her the most that he could, no one could replace his real mother, and the disjointed memories he had of lounging in her arms as a child, playing with her long, black hair.

Lee had a bit of a difficult time when visiting the bathroom and putting on his clothes—because of the cast on his leg—but he was glad he was being allowed to forego the troubles on his own. Ever since he got back from the hospital, Lee's parents had been very worried about him. New-mom especially hovered over him and chattered excitedly in the mornings, and was late to work a lot in order to watch over him and help him get ready. Finally, a week or two ago, his father stepped in and made the case that Lee was becoming an adult, a very strong one at that, and that he should be able to take care of himself. Lee's father had always been tough on him, asserting that he needed to make his own choices in life and take responsibility for them. But in the case with Gaara, this had worked to Lee's advantage, because when Lee asked his parents not to press charges, no matter how much new-mom protested Lee's father respected it as one of Lee's entitled responsibilities. Though, Lee would admit that to convince his father it took a lot of explanation for his decision, and rehashing of painful past experiences that he didn't want his father to ever know about. It brought them closer than ever, and yet so much further apart.

After getting himself dressed, he headed for the living room and, as he did every morning, knelt at the small shrine dedicated to his mother. Her smiling face looked upon him modestly from a picture frame, around which ashes from previously-burnt incense were scattered. New-mom was the one who insisted on having the shrine in the house and kept it well maintained, every week putting new flowers in the two vases beside it. The shrine was also in the center of the room right next to the TV so that no matter what, nobody in the family could miss seeing it in the morning. This gesture annoyed Lee's father a bit, but Lee could've cried tears of joy for his step-mom's kindness.

And as he went to the fridge, he found another of his step-mom's kindnesses inside—a plastic-wrapped plate of sushi with wasabi on the side and a bowl of her special world's-spiciest curry. Her curry could make a man's insides ignite, and his heart burn with happiness.

"Nobody makes it like you do," Lee whispered to himself with a smile on his face. He put the bowl in the microwave, fully prepared and excited to absolutely obliterate the little lining left in his stomach. While he waited for it to heat up, he got himself a glass of milk, dipped a sushi roll into a generous amount of wasabi and popped the whole thing into his mouth. Then he grabbed the remote off the kitchen counter and turned on the TV.

The grave expression of a newscaster immediately flashed across the screen.

"At four o'clock this morning, our neighbors in the northern quadrant of Sunagakure experienced a terrifying tragedy—four houses side-by-side on the same street were completely destroyed by a raging fire."

A shot of the smoldering houses came up, and Lee realized he'd been down that street and knew those houses. They were on the street he used to play on when his father used to work in Suna. He paused with a sushi roll halfway to his mouth, staring. There was nothing left of the houses but ash and rubble—the only thing left that could indicate any buildings had been there were the stone foundations, half-hidden under sand, dirt, and gravel. He mused quietly to himself how those houses and families never meant anything to him until now, when they were quietly reduced to dust.

"The fire started in one house on the bottom floor, then quickly migrated to the second, third, and fourth houses thanks to one of Suna's famous windy nights. But what caused the fire in the first place? When police first arrived on the scene, they said it was a kitchen fire.

However, the Kotobuki family feels it wasn't an accident."

The video feed cut to a shot of a very frazzled-looking young woman. Her name came up in a chaste line of text—"Kotobuki Tarako: Mother, victim."

"The children and my husband were asleep when the fire started. I'd gotten up in the middle of the night to get something to drink, but then heard noises like someone was knocking on the walls of the house. I went downstairs to make sure nobody was trying to break in, and then all of a sudden it sounded like there were fire-crackers going off all around the house. Then there were four even louder booms like the house was being bombed, and I saw a fire coming from in the kitchen." The woman paused, clearly emotional, trying to gather herself in the face of having lost her family's entire material world in what seemed like an instant. "I tried to put it out, but it wasn't working, and then a fire sprang up in the room opposite the kitchen. I ran to go get my family, called the fire department and we left the house and warned the neighbors, because the wind was picking up and we knew our house would be in flames soon. And as we left the house, we saw the silhouette of a young man disappear behind our house. My husband went after him, but we never found him."

The camera cut back to several different views of the burned houses. The newscaster's faux-sincere tone layered blandly over a scene that would most likely be either the making or breaking point in life for all four of those families. Not that Lee's observations were very heartfelt at the moment either. He could only chew his sushi rolls, reminded of a fire that happened long ago and came at a heavy price, and the boy Lee had shared it with. He was constantly fighting to forget, but he couldn't help but remember. Ever since that day, flames danced longingly behind his chestnut eyes.

"Investigators have since come up with some evidence to support Mrs. Kotobuki's claims. They found remnants of several packages of home-made firecrackers at a small campsite about a hundred meters up the hill from Mrs. Kotobuki's home. The investigators believe the family may have been stalked and this fire was a calculated attack. Further evidence was found when investigators examined the foundation of the home—it seemed like at each of the four corners of the house, some kind of explosive had been placed in order to try and destroy the foundation."

With a wince and a fearful pulse racing through his heart, Lee quietly thought to himself about what that meant. For any house a foundation is important, surely. But in Suna, a house's foundations can mean the difference between life and death for a family. The village was in a partially-isolated desert climate and even though it wasn't but forty miles from the lush, green Konoha that had violent winters and a chill breeze always lingering in the air, Suna was almost entirely covered by sand. Suna houses desperately needed their foundations to keep their houses from shifting and sliding around, and especially in the northern quadrant which was located in an area where the sand dunes were piled highest, if the foundations were destroyed the sand could give way underneath and collapse the entire house inside of it.

Lee knew from experience, having lived in the northern quadrant before. His house's foundations had been damaged in a sandstorm, but his family let it go without doing much to fix it. A couple months later, Lee awoke in the middle of the night to find his bed sliding across the floor and the house gradually tilting at an angle, the beginnings of a slow sinking into the earth not unlike the Titanic's descent into the sea. His father had just barely managed to rescue him and arata-kaa-chan by throwing them out the second-floor window and following them after. Lee had watched with childish wonder and terror as the sand swallowed up the home he'd come to love and all things dear within it, vanishing the biggest of symbols and joys in his family as if they'd never been there at all. He cried for his room and his belongings, arata-kaa-chan's pearls and pretty clothes, his father's work now lost, and his mother's mortuary tablet and picture. Luckily, arata-kaa-chan revealed that she had saved the last two items before escaping.

His father, stern and unflinching as ever, nearly scolded Lee for crying, even though a sorrowful light gleamed in his own eye.

"Be happy that we're all alive," he said. "A house is nothing. It was our safest place and home to our happy memories, but had we not gotten out it would have been nothing more than our coffin."

"The family also claims they've seen a suspicious young man lurking around the area a while before the attack," the newscaster said, jostling Lee out of his thoughts. "The suspect is described as being in his late teens, having red or brown hair and very pale skin. If anyone has any information on this incident, please call this number …"

With a deft hand Lee clicked the mute button on his remote before the newscaster could move on to other pieces of news. Lee didn't want to move on from that. He'd seen a lot of house fires in Suna. He checked the news a lot to see if any new fires had been recorded. Once he even called the public records office for the village and asked for some closed case files but he wasn't allowed to access them because he was from Konoha. But from his other endeavors he learned that there had been a startling amount of fires set all over the village in the past couple years, and every year there were more and more.

Ever since that time he lived in Suna, he could never keep his mind off fire. He followed the flames wherever they went, reading over news reports and going online to see the rumors surrounding, drawn to it all like he were a moth. He couldn't move on from the feelings these fires evoked, and he didn't want to. Ever since that first time he saw one, there was no helping himself.

He finished his sushi rolls and then sat down at the kitchen counter to work on his curry. Eyes no longer on the TV, he concentrated on shoveling down his breakfast, cringing and reveling at the sting of the hot curry sliding down his throat and burning trails down the walls of his stomach. He ate without stopping or slowing, his insides scalding, and the whole time was unable to stop thinking about the houses as they burned and the photos of their leftover glory.

Lee was only happy when things burned.

**(XXX)**

NOTE: Sorry this chapter is so short for so long a wait! I had more notes written down for this chapter, but thought it would be more productive to break everything up into several chapters and have some uploads once every week for a few weeks, as a reward for everyone's patience. Please bear with me!

I know I meant to get to Gaara and Kankurou far quicker than this, but at least we're finally here. I think the stage is almost set for plot to finally set things into motion. Please continue to support me, and look forward to the next installments.

I know I've thanked Autty before, but I'd like to express my gratitude again: Thank you to **Autumn-is-beautiful**! I've really valued Autty's critique and assistance in previous chapters. Autty is currently writing about Gai and Kakashi, whom I both love with all my heart. Please go and give your support!

By the way, Kotobuki Tarako is the same as the name of the mangaka who authored _Koisuru Boukun_, a pretty raunchy manga about a homophobic, angry young man who slowly falls in love with his male colleague. If any of you out there are into BL, please give it a read. There are plenty of zesty BL-manga out there, but that's one of the few that's truly touched my heart, mainly because the homophobic character is so realistic in his phobia and his stubbornness. Seriously, if you like good romantic stories, please give it a read, whether you're a fan of BL or not. There are some sex scenes, but they're mainly censored anyway, so you can skip past those if you really need to.


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